Escape

The ants crawl up the paper wrapper. Crisp. Slicing away at the butter within. Our eyes travel with them as they take their neat cubes back down the trail, meeting their brothers in traffic. Disconnect. A crash. Cymbals rained down on our heads. An ambulance was called. And police. The first and second violins screeched in erratically, but they didn’t stop. No long notes. Connect. The ants march on. We are the car behind. We are, we are, we are.

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Author: dragonink90

I'm a writer of MG and YA fiction, and also a poet. The first book in my Half-Wizard Thordric series, Unofficial Detective, will be released by Creativia in the near future. Oh, I binge watch Booktube videos, too.

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