The entire house was spotless. Door-tops: dustless. His own razor: hairless. Kitchen trashcan: almost trashless. He kicked it over; an empty, washed milk carton fell out.
They thought they’d beaten him. But he knew their filth was somewhere. Dirty vermin, his family.
When they returned, they’d pay for this mess.
Arthur Brown has been a teacher for a long time and hopes to be a non-teacher for longer.
Reminds me of Tom whyte’s poem: Ten A:M:
Ten a.m.
People were up
He saw them.