Murder Was the Case That They Gave Me



I didn’t mean to do it. And yet I did.


I found a lizard in the house. In the house, y’all. Since that little guy doesn’t pay rent, he had to go. So Mister and I put a bowl over him and slid a big piece of paper beneath the bowl, capturing the lizard and making it possible to take him outside to set him free. Easy, right?


It was going according to plan and I started to pick up the paper and bowl. The lizard’s weight was a bit more than I’d anticipated and he broke free. I put the bowl back down, hoping to cover him again. But I caught him on his tail. Expecting him to “release” his tail and run free, I tried again to place the bowl over his entire body. And that’s when it happened: I accidentally placed the bowl on his neck. I had killed him.


It really hurt my heart, and as Mister carried the lizard’s limp body to the yard and placed him in the grass, I apologized over and over. At that point, there really was nothing I could do. Mister asked if I would be able to let it go and I assured him that yes, I could. It’s the circle of life, after all.


I continued to feel badly about the whole thing, but I kept it to myself. After a while I told Mister that while I had been the one to deliver the fatal blow, I didn’t really think it was my fault. The way I see it, that little lizard shouldn’t have been in the house in the first place. This isn’t his domain. He screwed up.


I think if I keep telling myself that, I’ll get over my guilt. Poor little lizard.

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