We were supposed to write bad endings. My entry, upon review might actually not be a bad ending, and also might actually may be more of a beginning.
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Blueberry sludge bled down Kelly’s wrist. She cursed the pie; the pie that would never
reach Gina’s heart, the pie that would have revoked Diane’s historic playground
triumph under the plastic slide that smelled like urine, the pie that would
have made her the top bitch. She left
the mess, and exited the kitchen.
“Hey shugah,” Linda twanged, brushing shoulders with Kelly in
the doorway.
Kelly stopped. Strawberry rhubarb, she thought, could work
for Linda.
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