“You’ve gotta die!” She said as she lifted her hand up, up, high up, her weapon of choice clutched so tight in her hand that her knuckles turned white.
“I’ve laid in waiting for way too long, mister. And you’ve troubled me enough for far longer than your measly life should allow.”
She brought down that hand with all the force inside her.
She lifted her hand back up to confirm the death. A smear of blood on the table told her she had succeeded.
The underside of the rolled up newspaper revealed the pulverized remains of the mosquito.
Satisfied, she went back to bed.
Copyright ©2017 by Pradita Kapahi.
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