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C J O'Hare's avatar

“Please,” she whispered. “Just this one time.”

“I don't know,” he said. "You shouldn't even be in here.”

She leaned closer, pressing her body against his. He could smell her perfume.

She inhaled sharply, tracing the passage of the four men from the SUV through the double doors of the facility, her painted nails scratching the surface of the console.

Butterflies . . .

“Ok,” he said, fingers trembling, flicking up the cover of the button marked: DROP PAYLOAD.

“Just this one time.”

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Jeannine's avatar

The first time I saw the 'possum, he was in a tree at the edge of the woods. I said hello.

The second time he was in the barn, nestled in the hay. I shooed him out with a broom.

The last time, he was in the hen house, eating the remains of my favorite pullet.

Love and hate. War and peace. Life and death. So much depends on proximity.

My eyes full of remorseful tears, I raised the rifle.

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