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Writerly Wednesday - A Point in the Wrong Direction

It had all gone wrong. One misstep, one wrong move – that’s all it took.

He exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Accidents happen; his grandmother’s voice echoed in his head. He opened his eyes and ran his still shaking hands through his damp hair. He wrinkled his nose, a faint odor wafted out from under his arms. He shrugged his shoulders; the movement loosened the sweat dampened t-shirt that stuck to his back.

He squinted, focusing his eyes on the tree several feet in front of him. Two darts were buried dead centre and he could just make out the small bull’s eye he’d drawn only moments before. A violent sneeze in the middle of the third launch had changed the dart’s trajectory.

“Sorry, Grandma,” he called.

Grandma plucked the dart from her backside. “And here I was just thinking how weeding is a pain in the arse.”

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