THINKING OF YOU

‘The stairs,’ she said after I’d said, ‘stairs or hill?’
On the way up to the fourth floor where we’d cross to the back of the flats take the lift from there we passed a man and boy on their way down.
The man said, ‘murder, isn’t it?’
‘Yes indeed,’ I said, ‘and it’s going to be a while.’
‘We’ve got the baby and pushchair.’
‘Yeh, I know, I was thinking of you with the baby.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yeh.’