About the work

The roller skate was a gift. The youngest of the three, the one with the ripped blazer, had picked it up at a yard sale for his niece, thinking it might be a laugh for her ninth birthday. He'd even wrapped it in iridescent paper, which was now probably still in the back of the stalled car, covered in engine fluid. He didn't know how the skate ended up in the grass, or why it was the only thing that managed to trip them, perfectly placed like a booby trap. He won't tell his niece, when he finally sees her, that her present was a weapon.