I tilted my head back to let out a sigh but instead the word “fuck!” blurted out, and the table full of little kids I was walking past stopped what they were doing and stared at me. One of them even dropped their ice cream. It was like a scene out of a goddamn coming of age movie.
i fell asleep. i didn’t care. it felt good.
Clear, cool, refreshing, water. It was out of reach, and it left the situation pathetic and dry.
In a pitch black room, Hank pulls out his zippo to light up the cigarette poking out from his seasoned brown beard. The engraving on the lighter reads “one last time” as it lights up his face and the room around him. The zippo is shut, cutting out the flame and the light. He loads three bullets into the revolver, pops the cylinder back in, pulls back the hammer, and takes a seat in the black leather chair pointing the gun toward the door.
Footsteps follow to the door from the outside and the door is slowly opened by a man wearing a black suit. The black suited man sniffs the cigarette in the air, and reaches to turn on the light.
Before the light could switch on, two shots are fired from Hank’s revolver and the black suited man drops to the floor.
Hesitation. the third shot is fired and Hank drops to the floor.