by Rich Larson
“Was that all? I’m half-asleep, honey.”
“When dad died, you said you’d have traded anything, didn’t you?” Kristine asked. “Anyone or anything.” There was a long pause. Kristine looked down at her left hand, thinking of how it cupped when she swam, how the fingers all melded together and bit the water just so. She thought about the small warm thing growing in her belly.
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember exactly what I said.”
“Okay,” Kristine said, turning the stovetop on. “Bye, mom.”
“Bye, honey.”
Kristine held the ice around her finger and stared at the stove element, waiting for it to turn orange.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Begin Reading
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Rich Larson
Art copyright © 2017 by Samuel Araya