Holding the Knife tight 

I stood there, motionless, shoulders hunched.

Making quiet sniffing sounds.

My worried mother watched me. She could not recall another time like this. 

I slowly turned, tears streaming down my face, she saw the knife in my hand. Panicking, my mother reached out.

Then she noticed the bowl of cut onions on the table.

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14 thoughts on “Holding the Knife tight 

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