I saw Smith across the District Court waiting room.
He will always be just Smith to me; not DS Smith, DI Smith or whatever police rank he was now Smith.
He stood, head bent toward a small Asian girl, who wobbled on six inch heels, her tiny body vacuum packed into black lycra.
His words had her flattened up against the wall.
Her solicitor, a small thin man, in an ugly grey suit, hovered like a mosquito asking for a slap. Smith turned away from them both as if he were disgusted him and ...
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Kia ora everyone, I am Olivia, I am a writer, and an artist, welcome to my hectic mad world.
