She didn’t notice the knife in her hand until the moment before Reid turned on the light. Moonlight had glinted off the blade, and only then did her nerves register the handle’s heaviness. It was the butcher knife they’d bought after their wedding. Bad luck to register for knives, they’d been told, so they got the knife set themselves, laughing at the superstition. She couldn’t remember bringing it from the kitchen. She held it over the crib, where Charlie sniffled and mewled. The stench of liquid shit covered the world, and she imagined running the blade into Charlie’s soft belly and making
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