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August 2022 Fiction Contest: Overload
The son clutched his father, the official by the cell door.
"What'd they do this time?" He knew the boy liked his voice. He pulled his little head to his chest, and inhaled his scent.
Pulling away, he caressed those skinny arms, rough hands. Then he felt a small plastic tube, a thin metal needle at one end. A syringe. It fell, and he followed. His mind withered, but not before registering the message freshly carved into his forearm.
"Thanks for saving me. Now I join big world. Later."
Two sets of footfalls left. And the father died on sensory overload.
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