Someone to watch over me
Clare had gotten used to the chalk graffiti on her garden wall. If you could call it a garden, just a patch of grass and concrete before a high brick wall that separated her from the dead end lane beyond. She felt grateful for the gap between hers and the other terraced houses. The graffiti used to disturb her at first, particularly as it appeared facing inward to her house, instead of facing outwards to the by lane.
She initially found it threatening, and watched for weeks on end to catch the culprit breaking in to her turf to leave these cryptic comments. But no one was ever seen, although the messages changed frequently, on some weeks even daily.
The graffitied phrases took on a life of their own. And over time Clare became at peace with them. Sometimes they’d spell out a lyric from a favourite song, an old truism, or a self affirmation. Sometimes she felt they were speaking to her directly.
After a while it even became comforting. It was no surprise to her that the graffiti seemed to know just what she was thinking. Time passed and Clare grew tired of the city. The day she packed her bags to leave the graffiti read – “Ah good, the sea…..”
