“Sir.. sir what are you doing?”

I paused from my graffiti to see a police cob eyeing my artwork, and moreso than the paint, me.

My first instinct was to lie. But what can I say? He saw me painting the wall, didn’t he?

“S’cuse me?” I asked him.

“Were you just putting graffiti up on that wall?!” he asked, cautiously approaching me.

“Oh, dear lord, no. I actually came over here to see what kids seem to do for fun these days. My lord, it has changed, has it not, sir?” I asked, trying to act seven years older than my sixteen year old self.

“Quite. How old are you, son?”

“Twenty four, sir.”

“Well, you look to be quite young.” he said, eyeing me yet again.

“Well..” I began, trying to come up with something. My palms became sweaty, causing the spray paint to fall from my grasp.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

And the chase began.