Twitch. A wrinkled hand covered in age spots tweaks the yellowed net curtain aside. Mrs Parker peers out, as she does every day.
One day, a resident of Wimple Street elects to speak out and tells Mrs Parker to mind her own bloody business.
The yellowed net curtain stops twitching, for a day, a week, a month.
Two months later, an ambulance and police car sit outside Mrs Parker’s house. The police break into the house. The ambulance men carry a body out.
The residents of Wimple Street are ashamed and collectively decide to become nosy parkers from now on.
