Early Sunday morning, I rushed to lay my daughter’s Sunday Best out across the crib. Her burial was in just a few hours.
I smiled as I arrived home to see my husband watching TV. Tears welled up in my eyes—he had broken the locks.
Years ago, I wished for immortality. It’s since been one thousand years of begging for death as I now roam this lifeless earth alone.
The hunter shouldered his gun and sighed as the cold caress of oak leaves enveloped his figure. Amused, he watched the man limp around in the brush below him and aimed with a smile.
