We Hope To See You Again

He’s six feet under because when we hit that truck, his seat belt snaps and he smashes halfway through the window and by the time the car stops screeching he’s stopped twitching but Casey and I do not stop screaming, we scream and we scream because he won’t get up and you, you’ve blacked out, but we don’t know that so we scream for you, too, even louder, and after a while it gets quiet, so quiet, days and weeks go by and you don’t speak much; you don’t move much; you sit on your chair and you sit and you sit and –

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Anthony TanComment
One Shot

The cold cuts through my threadbare coat and straight into my bones. I clench the rifle in my hands, keep it close to my chest; it’s the only thing that might save me in this trash-heap of a city.

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Anthony TanComment
Where There's Smoke

It’d been about ten minutes since I ran away from home. The tears on my cheeks had finally dried, and for that I was glad. I’d never been so mad – pissed – at Mum before, and it hurt. I’d felt hot and disgusting when I’d left the house, and I’d puked up dinner on someone’s lawn, and a bunch of trick-or-treaters had saw me and yelled out gross so I felt bad, yeah, but much better than what I’d felt when I saw – when I saw Mum –

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Anthony TanComment
Spring

It’s spring and it’s April’s first day in the world. Small cries fill the dim-lit room, against the beep beep of machines. Her mother smiles, cooing to her little doll. Her father bends down and picks her up. April, he whispers. April.

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Anthony TanComment