Write a four line poem about being: caught red-handed.
Bakery was pretty steady today. Ended up with only four loaves of bread left at closing, along with about a dozen each of cinnamon buns, croissants, and butter tarts. Not too shabby.
Very much looking forward to a few quieter days ahead, even though I'm sure that Christmas stuff will probably fill them up pretty quickly.
I stood bloody-handed
Over the man I had harmed
When the damned cops arrived...
Sigh, stupid silent alarm.