Foggy

Dermott Hayes
The Junction
Published in
1 min readNov 10, 2018

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In the damp, morning air, her breath puffed like floss in the dawn.

She blessed her forethought luring him to a rendezvous in the boathouse.

There was nothing to carry, she just rolled him in to the boat, bound and weighted and set off.

Foggy morning, she thought, clear head.

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