This story won third prize in this year's Toronto Star Short Story Contest. I tuck the mascaras under the sleeve of my shirt, then adjust my underwear inside the back of my jeans. Susan used to shove that tube up Kelly’s nose and down her esophagus like she was cleaning out a pipe. Kelly would spit blood, eyes watering, staring Susan down without blinking, and Susan would dig further, like a plumber. “What do we have here, Steve?” Security Guy is wearing his fake-police hat now and looking the part.

Source: The Star April 19, 2023 03:33 UTC