Fingertips ran down the paper clippings in his self bound volume of victories. It was the first; the collection would grow.

Away on the shelf, the glossy spine beckoned him.

Later honey, he thought. Out the door, Little Sneaker set off to work.


“Jimmy crushed its head!” the students ranted.

“Nuh-uh!” Jimmy screamed.

“Stop it. Break it up!”

A pile of feathers, busted brains on the sidewalk; beak pointed to the playground.

“Who did this?”

“Jimmy!” the jury sang.

Flashes of the child’s face grounded in the pavement slathered shame on his conscious.

Never have children, he noted. 

The End

0 comments about this story Feed