
Local media make the trial their top story; soon everyone knows every detail of your sins. It doesn’t matter that you helped bring a criminal to justice. It doesn’t matter that you paid the price for your mistake. One woman comes up to you in the dairy aisle to ask what kind of mother you are.
‘A weekend one,’ you reply.
You could live with your fifteen minutes of ugly fame. But your girlfriends, the ones who don’t drop you, don’t hide their contempt.
You hate the thought
That, as a man, you’d have got
High fives for your sins.
***
Y’know, I’m not happy with this; it’s even worse than yesterday’s. That’s what I get for winging this mini-series – this is my final Love Nudge instalment for today’s prompt, loathing.