With case in hand, at the top of the street.
She stared at the houses and shuffled her feet.
Wrought iron fence at 47.
Black arrows upright like
The gates to Heaven.
The only way was life.
Freedom! The world!
Experiences to be had
Out of Brownton Road.
This place was kids kicking balls.
Mums calling them to tea.
Dads in armchairs,
asleep in front of the TV.
What will the neighbours think?
Street gossip. Prickle-prattle.
Dirty washing behind closed doors.
Twitching curtains. Tittle-tattle.
Today, where her road lay was... here.
She looked back to the high road and life.
She glared at Brownton Road,
Stepped into 47 and strife.
Each tread, a twitch of curtain thread.
The jeers, Unheard gossip rang through her ears.
"So, she's back!"
"She's here!"
"How could she show her face!"
"You'd think she'd disappear!"
"Sacrifices her parents made"
"University's not cheap!"
"Only for that to happen!"
"Oh, I could just weep!"
"Didn't even finish her degree"
"Her poor parents, my heart goes to them."
"More fool 47 for taking her back!"
"I heard the court was absolute mayhem. "
"The jury was wrong. Dead wrong."
"Dead, just like the guy. Totally agree."
"Not guilty, they said."
"I'd have convicted her, if it had been me."
"Her poor parents."
"She'll have to go! She's caused such a fuss."
"Disgrace on the street."
"Poor Brownton Road! Poor us!"
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