When the crime scene investigators arrived…

When the crime-scene investigors arrived, it was like a real-life TV show. Just like on the show there was a man and a woman. They had a certain banter going between them. They had boxes within boxes of powders, tapes, plastic-sheets and cutting equipment. They looked at each and every handprint. They covered my windows and window-frames in powders and pulled off fingerprints with strips of rigid sticky-tape.

The whole experience was strangely reassuring. The woman laughed with glee a number of times at the stupidity of my burglar. From within the flat alone she managed to get distinct fingerprints for each and every one of his fingers on both hands. She also managed to get a clean shoe-print. And when they saw the drainpipe that they’d climbed up, she sounded so astonished and triumphant at the sheer number of clear prints she found that I couldn’t help but feel better about the whole thing. Now all I have to do is clean the whole flat from top to bottom and find some way of buying some new stuff that doesn’t involve having a large insurance pay-off (I have no contents insurance at the moment).

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