• Samantha Hartig

Those Kids

They tipped her in three Dunkin Donuts coupons, limited to one use per day. Her chainsaw frown slashed their hearts, but left no mark. One of them stood with cigarette in hand, and walked with Cupid’s bow legs to the door. A dark haired boy (or girl) shoved their hands in their pocket to finger some car keys. Androgynous as they were, by a long glance you could tell they were a-


All bodies drop to the marble floor, with a smell of rust. A glass of milk is now a bloody shrapnel, and resonates with some girl’s blue hair. The shooter had turned the pale morning into a pancake minefield.

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