June

June packs a bag with shot, hooks it from her Dora the Explorer belt.  She ties her jump rope across her chest, holsters her sling, and squeezes a juicebox into her water bottle.  As a final touch, she scrawls dark lines across her face with a magic marker.

She’s ready for the backyard.

The hunt is slow, hot, the grass weeks long, uncut because her brother keeps forgetting to do it.  In the bushes there is a rustling.  The insects buzz.

She readies a marble, pulls the elastic back, waits.

Captain Fluffy rounds the corner, hissing, his eyes green slits.

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