Probably a Daft Fool

I nearly had a life.

Oh sure, I breathe, eat, talk, sometimes I even smile. But I have no life. Then one day a strange man ran up. Brown hair, brown eyes, a tie still around his neck, pulled loose and flapping around his chest. “Ever run away from the police?”

I frowned. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Well, you should probably try not to.” He winked and for a moment I thought, wished, he’d pull me along on his adventure. “Not unless it’s for a good cause.”

I shrug, pour more to drink. “Probably a daft fool anyways.”