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Cerulean by Allison Fink

In by New Author on October 19, 2010 at 12:03 am

Caroline was her favorite crayon. Skies were Caroline, always, and Daddy’s blue eyes, and oceans. No better blue in the box, no way jose. But one day, too hasty, and the Caroline crayon snapped in two.


She ran to Momma, clutching the box and the pieces, hot with guilt and disbelief. “Look! My Caroline crayon! Can you fix it?”


Momma put out her hand. Turned it over and examined the paper label. “It’s pronounced suh-ROO-lee-uhn, kiddo” and tossed the Caroline crayon into the trash.


The trash can flickered blue for an instant, like last embers, and then Caroline was gone.



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