Carousel
Short Fiction
Mike set Tamara on the lone carousel unicorn.
“Hold tight to the horn, my darling, Daddy is gonna take some pictures.”
Tamara leaned forward on the neck of the light blue mythical beast, grabbing the gold spiral horn.
Colette was reading the plaque, embedded in a large stone.
“Wait, Michael...wait. I’m confused.”
At four, Tamara was probably old enough and …
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