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April 22, 2007:

Naked. Rolling side-to-side over broken glass, detritus of the evening's temper-storm that you were unable to remove in time.

"This hurts me," she says. Little girl eyes, wide and sad, whispering to you, Help me, daddy. I am alone and without hope.

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© 2002-2012 Mark Phillips. All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.