Wednesday, July 22, 2009


by Ari Collins

“It bit me, Daddy!” He pointed at his shadow.

I stared for a long moment. The shadow’s finger, outstretched like Billy’s, seemed crooked. Double-jointed, almost. I turned my gaze to Billy’s index finger. Had it always been so short?

I stepped closer. Gulped. “It’ll be okay, Billy.” My son’s finger was missing a knuckle.

1 comment:

Jackson said...

Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Ouch.