The knife was her boyfriend’s idea. People in the neighbourhood were getting mugged. Five in the last three days.

“You’ll be safer,” he’d said. “Please, just take it.”

Fawn knelt beside the boy laying on the sidewalk. His coat sticky and dark. His breathing rasped and gurgled.  One of them had pushed her. She fell. Her knees scraping against salt and snow and concrete beneath. Another hit her. Scarves and hoods muffling their ugly laughter and hiding their faces.

She’d pulled the knife free.

Then some time passed. She sat beside the boy as the snow fell, wet and heavy.


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