Thursday, September 27, 2012


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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