It's funny really, looking back at it now.
How obvious it was.
How he would disappear in the night, leaving a cold depression where his warm body used to be, and come from one back smelling faintly of the factory smoke and the emptied contents of a chamber pot.
Smelling like the East End.
Yes, I was a fool.
But I was a fool in love.
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In love with the Whitechapel Murderer
Historical FictionIt's funny really, looking back at it now. How obvious it was. How he would disappear in the night, leaving a cold depression where his warm body used to be, and come back smelling faintly of the factory smoke and the emptied contents of a chamber...
