Wear pink,
yellow, lilac bright colors. Dark? People might think you have mental issues. You look at the ground when you walk. Stop that. Look straight. Neck tight. Posture. And smile. “Five…four…three…two…one….”
He sighs. I close my eyes. “Five…four…three…two…one….” The cold metal presses farther into my skull and my skin into it. Shaking. Bruising. Waiting. I take a deep breath and open my eyes to yell. Just do it. But the gun jerks back before I can. The bang drowns out the plea. The flame drains out my life. He looks at the ceiling, allowing the fluorescents to glare into my eyes, and he throws the gun away. It rattles and scrapes across the cold tile floor. And stops. |
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