She was sick of show-and-tells about dreamcatchers where most girls in the back would snicker at her. Yet someone needed her for her warmth.
Cafe. Her outstretched filthy hand. Half my sandwich gone. I’d be hungry this afternoon but her child was fed. A cool breeze. Winter comes.
Coyotes lead. We quickly ford the shallows. Snip and pull. The fence parts easily. A real coyote howls. I clutch papers with my new name.
Acquitting him on a technicality, they sentenced her to life looking over her shoulder. No parole. Her only appeal was a single bullet.
When donated Christmas boxes came, she gave all the little gifts in hers to the younger orphans. All except the doll. She’d never had one.
Mechelle balanced the five-gallon jug on her head as she walked back to her master’s house. She wondered if she would be allowed to drink.