I like to write opening paragraphs to the great Australian novel. Just opening paragraphs, never accomplished the novel; well, not yet,anyway.
They gave me flowers the day my father died. They had taken him from me, and they thought that a bouquet of pale pink roses and baby’s breath would sage my emotions. My hatred.
It took me five years, but I got my revenge. The day I snapped those handcuffs on them, and pushed them towards the cells, I knew my revenge was complete.
I was wrong.