Sanctuary by Michael Lane

“Would you like a cuppa, love?” 

That was the only thing I thought to say. 

 I recognised her straightaway: her new album was everywhere.  I had seen her through my window, crouching down behind the hedge: tearful, wounded.

 So, I went out the house to her. 

She ran across the road to her Merc.  Snappers circled ravenously, then struck with lenses of lightning.  Her face exhibited beneath glass. 

If she had come in for that cuppa, could it have delayed what happened in the end?  Doubtful.  

When friends tell me I almost met someone famous there, their glee upsets me.

Selected - Drabble - February

Published in Issue #27

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