Short and Sweet Sarah Kikel

Short and Sweet

Sarah Kikel

21

Evie chopped her hair in a drunken rage. It was no Jo March moneymaking act for Marmee. It was summer, cherry, crime of passion, corn syrup dripping down her arm. In the bathroom, the lightbulb flickered violently as she mutilated with a grimace. Outside, the popsicle melted into the grooves of the patio stones. Mom thought safety scissors weren’t that sharp.