Wednesday, December 23, 2009

55 No Longer

by Ari Collins

The child dragged his fingertips along the concrete walls. “Was everything so new at this age, Robert?”

“I don’t recall, sir. And your body?”

The boy sneered at the operating table. “That fucking thing? It’s trash.”

“Naturally, sir.”

“No. Wait... Transplant that damned shrapnel to my new shoulder first."

Tiny hands stroked a scarred arm.

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