By Mad Rhetoric
She smiles imperfectly, her jaw maligned, one eye focused on my white lapel. I smile as she jostles and jerks about, happy to see me. Her words escape in slurred vowels. I want to have her courage to face the death her parents decided on.
“Are you certain?” A beat then her parents nod affirmitively. I begin, she squeals as the cold vein of poison enters.
I return her smile, her eyes fixed on me as the pressure strikes at the base of her neck. She fades slowly. I would bill their insurance later this evening.