One look was all it took. I didn’t want to look away. Even when the cart next over creaked as it turned and caught on wood, I didn’t want to. But I had my book in my hands, and had no more excuses. So I turned away with my fantasy, away from my real one.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead.
Left on the doorstep,
with one newspaper in hand.
Laughing at her!
All of the children laugh with me.
What a thing to say to them, too!
“My, my, my,” says she,
“What a pretty doggie! Yes!”

They sat together on the park bench with a backpack in between them.
“So, what do you think you’ll do now?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know… maybe write some, under a pen name. Maybe paint.”
“That’s all good, but… what about the cops?”
“Screw them. They can’t have my backpack.”