She was a small shabbily dressed woman who I had seen sitting on the kerb outside the Unit when I got to work at 0730 yesterday,smoking a home-made roll-up cigarette.
She looked terminally tired...as if the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' had all landed upon her in the last few years,her shoulders slumped,her face marked with the vicissitudes of poverty and loneliness.
"So...do you have any medical problems then ?"
I have asthma...
"Do you take any medicines for the asthma ?"
Well...I take ventolin...the blue pump
...and...
...umhh...cyanide?
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