by Colleen Foley
Jimmy stared gape-mouthed at the Peter Rabbit cookie jar languishing in
shards on the counter. He’d picked it up somewhere when we were kids.
We’d loved that thing. It had helped us believe that monsters couldn’t
destroy all the good in the world, in us. And I’d killed it, as my
faith had been killed.
Noises behind made me turn, gun ready.
Seth, hands raised and empty. I wanted to fire. One shot to blast
away the symbol of his betrayal in a wash of blood and bone. Futile.
I clamped my eyes shut, lowered the gun, trusting in surrender.
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