"Your turn!"
Garlic hot on his breath, he took my hand, not
gently, and slammed it on the Magnum.
How quaint, I thought, the mother of all
handguns. The most you can feel like a man, without putting in the effort. It
was ironic that now I was pressing it to my own right temple.
The barrel cold against my flesh incited visions. Instead of
seeing my life achievements in that final trip down memory lane, I saw Doctor
Who and my high-school crush. Hmm. A matter of perspective I guess.
My finger caressed the smooth metallic trigger,
begging release.
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