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from Flash Fiction Collection by Jo Hawk

Copyright © 2019–2022 Jo Hawk

Repeating History

I took the stairs, two at a time, stuffing my gun into its holster as I tried to ignore the heavy strap digging into my shoulder. It was early, and I prayed as I approached her apartment.

“Please, be awake.”

Closing the door softly, I listened. Someone was in the kitchen. Relief washed over me as I peered around the doorjamb. Her small, frail frame bent over the sink. The house-dress hung on her like a worn rag, and white nurse shoes appeared too big for her thin leg...


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