Flash Fiction: The photo.

IN this one, you are smiling. Standing there in your black jeans, boots and t-shirt you look happy. One would even say care free. You don’t look like you have any secrets, but I know you do. I saw you there that night, silver knife glinting in your hand, the blade curved in a sinister smile, its teeth stained red. In this one, your Smiling. In the next one, you’ll be like my sister. And next time, it will be me with the blade.

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