No More Medals

The skis, a sign of happier days, were tucked into the back of the closet. They’d been there since the accident, standing at attention in their hard shell case, buckled in tight as a warning of a danger lurking within.

Jonas looked at the trophy case across the room as the sunshine breaking in through the open door reflected off the gold and silver medals on display. Six of them. He shook his head and breathed deep.

It was time. He reached in, grabbed the top handle, tilted the case, and pulled it out. The buyer would be by soon.

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