Flash Fiction: Fairy Lights and Black Holes

pexels-photo-137219redThe cops glide by, at a leisurely pace, on their Segways. Slow and steady, helmeted, backs straight as their faces.

Three kids, Lebanese, Caucasian, Islander. Backs against the wall. Two of the three sit obediently heads bowed. The other… not so much.

“Sit down now,” says one of the coppers. They’ve parked their Segways neatly to one side.

“I will not sit down,” he says  like a freedom fighter. Arms wide he pushes forward.

Two on one. The cops wrestle him the ground. “Just sit down,” one of his mates plead belatedly.

The streets aren’t mean. They’re lit with fairy lights and the busker sings folk-pop hits. It’s safe to walk home at night, except stay on the path with CCTV and emergency phones. There was that one girl, it was on the news, there was a black spot and she was gone.

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