I stopped at the corner of High Street and The Green, two bags of shopping cutting the fleshy part of each hand and three hundred yards to the carpark left to trudge in the biting wind.

There were four people standing near the crossing: an elderly woman – thick windblown hair belying her age, two schoolkids – all noisy swearing and banter, and a tall, professional looking man with a battered briefcase and lead eyes.

 One schoolkid took a swing at the other with his schoolbag. It missed and landed squarely on the back of the elderly lady. She staggered and fell towards the road.

I dropped my bags and in one swift motion grabbed her hand, pulling her to safety from the speeding traffic. She paled, and for a moment, I thought she would faint, but she quickly recovered her composure.

Rounding on the two kids, I found myself face to face with them, struggling in the grip of lead eyes.

“Mind your manners, you little shits,” he hissed at them as they spewed vile predictions of what they would do to him.

“I think you should put them down, sir,” I urged. He noticed me, seemingly for the first time, and surprise spread across his face as he spotted my police uniform under my flapping Kagool.

“Yes, of course, officer,” he said, his face colouring slightly. “I didn’t mean to overreact. I’m sorry.”

He dropped the kids, and they both ran off shouting imprecations in their wake, their thin legs carrying them like whipped farm dogs.

“It’s just,” he began, then paused, his mouth hanging open like a shopping bag.

“It’s just what?” I drew myself up to my full five foot seven, a good nine inches shorter than him.

“It’s just that’s how I lost my wife. Boys messing around. Nudged her in front of a sixteen-wheeler. She never had a chance.” His eyes softened as the lead in them melted and ran over his cheeks.

I too softened. “No harm done, eh? Just try to control your reactions in the future.”

“I will, officer. I promise.” He replied.

I picked up my bags just as the beeping started and we crossed. He turned left into the High Street, and I turned right to the carpark. That was the last time I saw him, but it wasn’t the last time I thought of him. Two weeks later, I was on a case in which we found two schoolboys tied naked to a tree in the civic park opposite the town hall. They’d been whipped viciously. I recognised them as the two who’d bumped the old lady – I have a good head for faces. They said a tall man did it. A powerful man. With dull grey eyes.

Author’s note: This story was originally a series of Tweets written for the daily prompt exercise #VSS365 on the 14th December 2022. You can find the original thread here.