Suspicious

If I dwell too much on the concept of suspicion I behave suspiciously.

In a shop, I wonder if the security guard has clocked me. I become furtive and edgy. I wonder if I’ve been browsing too long, for a suspicious amount of time, like a shoplifter choosing his moment.

I try and produce my “I really am genuinely interested in buying this item but I just can’t make my mind up…” face. I stroke my chin thoughtfully. I’m not fooling anyone.

I even begin to suspect myself.

“Am I a thief?”

“Am I about to slip that watermelon up my jumper and make a dash for it.”

Suspicion breeds suspicion and right now I’m behaving suspiciously and I suspect myself.

I get home and Google the phrase “suspicious activity,” which brings up a lot of terrorism. Several pages, in fact. Slightly suspicious thing to do, that, Google the phrase “suspicious activity.”

I expect an alarm has gone off somewhere.

“Shifty looking fella from the supermarket,” says one cyber-detective to the other, “…the one who was eyeing up the watermelons…only gone and Googled “suspicious activity” ‘asn’t he.”

“I bloody knew it,” says the other.

“Let’s roll!”

Suspicious

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