Once he was sure she was gone, he reached back behind the couch and grabbed the paper bag. He placed the .45 on the low table in front of him.
It had been a fair trade. He didn't ask questions. Now some solvent and an old sock would bring back the shine. It felt easy in his hand and he had a renewed confidence. He was back in control. Now he had choices. He rubbed the barrel as if waiting to conjure a genie. As he tried to remove the slide, a bullet discharged. Across the room, the baby cried.
D.M. about 8 years ago
(The baby was shot accidentally and they were both jailed...)