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from Flash Fiction Collection by Jo Hawk

Copyright © 2019–2022 Jo Hawk


I spied Springsteen’s ears peeking over the top of the cardboard box and I knew he was hunting trouble.

His patient stalking paid off as Winston, my English Bulldog, ambled past his hiding spot.

Springsteen sprung, pouncing on poor befuddled Winston, before streaking across the room to pause in the doorway, hoping for an encore.


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