Sweet Dreams

by

by Robert Gryfft

The moment lasted decades, her eyes locked to the animal, his eyes to her.

“Pony,” she said, eyes gleaming.

“Yes, little one,” the clown said, reaching for her flaxen curls. “Pony.”

Her mother turned, shivering suddenly. “Come on, bubbie.”

The clown raised his gloved hand slowly.

Mother and daughter fled into the crowd.

He watched.

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