I thought killing my first mouse would feel empowering. It didn’t.
Jessie Pocock
181

… I read about half of this thinking you were misspelling “moose” and realized only when you said “She’s not afraid of mice” that I was so very wrong. I was imagining this moose trap in the middle of the woods and you crying in front of a dead moose like “I cannot do this” and was thinking “well you did, now how is your grown ass woman self gonna drag that thing home?” I now feel idiotic and shall shrink into my chasm of incorrectness to read other pieces that I will likely misinterpret.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.