Traffucked

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Travelling with kids really was the pits. They'd been stuck in a jam for over an hour now and the boys had played everything from "whatever you say to me goes double for you" and "MOM he's touching me again" to "why are you hitting yourself" to "are we there yet?" She was sick and tired of the car, of their bickering and their constant efforts to beat the crap out of each other. She looked at the flag outside on the pavement. It hadn't moved in half an hour. It was so hot that even the wind had gone and lain down somewhere. Behind her, her sons started a game of "I'm not repeating what you say. What? What?" She closed her eyes and thought of escape. #shortstory #fiction #flag #instastory

A post shared by La Fictionista (@lafictionista) on

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