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Biscuits

"You should have been nicer to me," Carlotta said as she stood over me with the tire iron.

"I see that now." I tried to get up, but my leg kept making that crunching sound. "It's not too late. I could mend my ways."

A feeble attempt; one she wasn't buying.

"I'm taking the cash. I'm going to Tenerife. I'm taking Malcolm, too."

That hurt more than the puncture in my lung.

"He won't go. He'd never trust you."

Carlotta laughed and tossed the iron into the trunk with me. The tip caught my broken wrist and it shrieked with pain. "He'll come wagging his tail behind him."

"Don't do it," I hissed, but she closed the lid on my protests. I could forgive her betrayal, but my dog? That broke my heart.

Story by:

K. A. Laity

submitted at 4:43pm

22 April 2012

K. A. Laity's web:

www.kalaity.com