008. Bunnies
She remembered the first time she encountered them in her grandfather's shed. First, it was the smell. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw them hanging there.
Bunnies.
The word didn't work in that context. Bunnies were the fluffy, smiling things that came in an Easter basket, with pink fur, and a ribbon tied around the neck. These were something different. Their glassy eyes stared blankly, fixated on some unattainable goal. A droplet of blood pooled at the nose.
She didn't cry, but she stood there and catalogued the feeling.
She savoured the purest form of sadness.