The violin
The violin #flashfiction #amwriting
He owned them. There was nothing left to say. He was their precious hope, the success they’ve never gotten, all bundled up into fits of spoiled rage and violence. His latest victim: his violin. Its strings curled and twisted free of their bindings. The polished would more fit to act as a weapon than anything else. And there were mom and dad, counting pennies to replace it. Again. And all I could…
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