Left on the dresser, the last time he emptied his pockets before dying on the bathroom floor, a jackknife, a folded-up note, and two bits.
The car still smelled like french fries from the last time. She cracked the window and looked at her phone shining like a camping flashlight on her lap. She scrolled through Facebook and her email, looking up every few seconds to check the mirrors,… Continue Reading “6:11”
She did everything the doctor said but lock the upstairs window. She knew that letting the boy sneak in each night made her whole life his prey, but the things he stole kept them connected, mother and son, one leaving one taking.
If you leave now, they’ll all know you did it, you’ll be guilty, they’ll never let you go, just stay put, wipe the sauce off your lip, there, I’ll deal with you later. _________ All my 33-worders are dedicated to Trifecta, a great little… Continue Reading “#5/100: A Quick Slice”