The Blade Itself
“Gone 30. Gone Half of Detroit burned down every year on the night before Halloween. Or it used to, back in high school, when Karen had lived downriver. In Wyandotte the pranks had been more on the level of blowing up mailboxes than torching warehouses, but she’d always hated Devil’s Night anyway. Maybe because of her brothers; they’d always go out, prepared like commandos, dressed in black and packing duffel bags stuffed with eggs, toilet paper, M-80 firecrackers, spray paint, God knew what els...e. They always let her paint camouflage makeup from the drugstore on their faces, but when she would beg them to let her come along, David would laugh, and Brian would ruffle her hair and say that it was guy stuff. Then they’d leave on their adventures and she’d sit home stewing.
Now here she was, the day before Halloween. Thirty-two years old and still being excluded by the man in her life.
After storming out the night before, she’d come home, taken a bath, and gone to bed, waiting for the sound of the front door.MoreLess
Now here she was, the day before Halloween. Thirty-two years old and still being excluded by the man in her life.
After storming out the night before, she’d come home, taken a bath, and gone to bed, waiting for the sound of the front door.MoreLess
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