It should have been me, laying there, the delicate tea-cup broken, as it fell out of my hand, before I hid the ground.
Not her, not the person filled with the most innocence I have ever witnessed, not the only one whom never would speak a word of ill, or hold a harsh thought in her heart.
I was supposed to be there this day. It was me, whose house had been broken into, who’s jewelry enticed those less fortunate, my choices leading up to the occurences of this tragic day.
Instead, I had left, this day as any other, leaving her behind asleep, defenseless, and now dead.
Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014