Steven Prentice killed the toothfairy. He hadn't meant to. He'd put a glass over her and slid a piece of card underneath, and meant to take her to the open window - to release her into the cold October night.
But one of her legs had got caught.
And she'd started writhing.
And it seemed kinder to put her out of her misery.
So Steven Prentice had lifted the glass and brought his hand down to the table, pressing his palm against the wood until no light shone through.
He wiped the gunk on his jeans.
Then watched Question Time.
It was disappointing.
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