• No Other Choice by Curtis Ippolito

    You’d never held a gun on a person until that day, so obviously you’d never shot anyone either. The Smith & Wesson shook ever so slightly in your grip, your aim dead-center on our hit’s forehead. You were standing, he was kneeling—whimpering—in his fancy Spanish Colonial mansion in Henderson. A real monstrosity of a place. […]

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  • Farm-to Market Road Justice by Curtis Ippolito

    For three weeks, Mrs. Graves waited in the shadows at the end of her crushed rock driveway for them to return. Each night, an hour after dusk, she took her position: opposite side of the amber-casting street light, behind the mailbox and a naked rose hedge. Three hours, standing guard. Victim of beer bottles rifled […]

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