No one could remember how the war had started.
What transgression, what folly had launched that first missile? They could not have been blind to the terrible carnage that would follow. Mutually Assured Destruction indeed. And when all ammunition was spent, they stared at each other across the table, accusations flying.
“For the last time! Who started it?” mom yelled, incandescent with rage.
“She did,” they both said in unison, fingers pointing.
Emma plucked a fragment of raspberry jam tart from her sticky hair and hastily devoured it. She smiled at the sweetness and winked at her bedraggled sister.
Cover image courtesy of: Devin Rajaram