There are two people sitting under the gazebo next to the car park. They are both drunk. I am walking back from the supermarket and I have two bags with me. They are full of booze, crisps, chocolate, dipping sauces, cured meat and French cheese.
As I approach the two people I think, 'Please don't say anything to me.'
One of the two drunk people burps and then sneezes. He burps again. He drinks more of his strong beer and then burps.
I am very near them now.
The man who was burping slowly turns around. He is looking at me and standing aggressively.
He says to me, 'Party in number 41 tonight?'
I live at number 41. I try and smile at the man, but it is difficult when I am so scared.
As I walk into my home, I can feel the blood pulsing around my body.
I pace around for a while, thinking about the people.
For the whole night I sit up in my bed, unable to sleep. I think about the two people waiting outside my home. Waiting to follow my every move.
My groceries remain, uneaten, on the kitchen table.