The King’s Ransom

I hold him up at arm’s length, an offering to the gods, a tribute. He gurgles and squeals, wriggling in my arms. The sun kisses, then stings us. Beneath, his shadow wriggles along with him. I shudder, without a dark echo. That was the price for our freedom. Image credit: Photo by Riccardo Farinazzo on Unsplash

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