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The Map of Small Disasters
adventure◐ Teen6 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
The playground was exactly how I remembered it. The old swing set, the same oak tree. Everything frozen. But there, carved into the tree trunk: a date. The day I broke my arm. My heart started racing.
I carved my finger into the wood trying to feel the date carved there. It was fresh—maybe a week old. Someone had refreshed it. For me? The thought made my skin crawl.
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A possible continuation
I drove to grandma's lawyer's office with shaking hands. The letter was dated six months before she died. Inside, one sentence: 'He doesn't know yet, but he's going to get hurt again. And this time, I won't be there to save him.' No signature. Just that.
AO
Amara Okafor
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