THE CIRCUS

‘What floor you live on?’ she said having beckoned me stop the side of the road, corner of King Square Avenue and Jamaica Street, she crossed as I’s making my way home.
I told her and she said, ‘Front or back?’
She said it wasn’t me, then and I said, ‘What’s up?’
Apparently her balcony had flowers, plants and soil all over it, meant she couldn’t hang her washing out, and she thought it came from above.
‘Where abouts are you?’ I said.
‘Oh, that’s Jee,’ I said, ‘lives there. He’s alright,’ I said, ‘Approachable. You know who I mean? He’s short and he’s got grey hair?’
‘I’ve been up there knocked three times but no one answers so I took her from the maisonettes with me and she said she’d help me talk to the council you know I want it to go away...’
‘How you think it gets there?’
‘Between the netting and his balcony, he must push it or drop it down, but whatever he does I don’t know why he’d do it...’
‘Does seem odd,’ I said.
‘Anyway,’ she said crossing her arms close to her body indicating the cold, ‘I’m going shopping.’
‘The Circus?’