The nice policeman wants me to go up the steps with him. Says he’s something to show me in the garden.
Used to keep here and the garden so pretty back then. Len always said we had the best back garden in the whole of London.
Not been out here for more than twenty years. Not since the night he told he was leaving me for another woman. I was in the garden. Pruning the roses with those secateurs he’d bought me for Christmas. Next thing, they’re stuck in his chest. Told everyone he’d left me.
Wonder who found him?
A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers