He said it like it was easily done; quick, and soon over. Pull the trigger, wipe the gun. Remove all traces. After it was done, hand over the gun, the rush, the invincibility. Trudge through life, as always, without replaying the jerk the pistol made in my hand. This was not right. Not the rush, the killing, but the relinquishment. Relinquish it!
“How do you know I’ll do what you say, just because you say it?”
A short laugh, nervous. A quick of a smile, showing a flash of teeth. “I don’t.” Dark lashes rose and eyes opened. “Not really.”
 Attingere · Tue Jun 05, 2007 @ 03:18am · 0 Comments |
