by Tracy L. Carbone

Thirty thousand dollars and four months out of work had been worth it. Her body was perfect. Breasts were round and big, tummy flat and tight. The surgeons added plastic to her cheeks, and shaved down her pointy chin. Teeth straight and white as piano keys. Those high school bitches would slit their wrists when they saw how she had transformed. She strutted toward the crowd, making eye contact with the adult children who’d made her life hell. SLAM. The city bus flattened her to a mound of surgical materials and shameful skin.

More from Tracy L. Carbone:

The Collection and Other Dark Tales.

About Russ Thompson

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