posted on Aug, 2 2012 @ 12:33 PM
I’ve been watching you.
I’ve seen how you’ve changed, my friend. You no longer smile or laugh the way you used too. You spend too much time pacing the floor and
sleeping. It’s been over a year since you last took me to the range for practice.
Remember the day you scored the bullseye round and won the tournament? I do. I was unstoppable in your hand, hot with friction and deadly accurate.
You handled my recoil like your wrist was a spring, and your aim was precise. That was a good day. But we’ve not been in a tournament for a long
I recall how you would take me out of the safe every week and clean me. The touch of your warm hands, the feel of the oil smoothed over my
barrel….I felt appreciated. Blissful.
But now, you’ve changed. I know. I’ve been watching you.
I’m sitting here now, by your bed, where you placed me a week ago. You hold me all the time, and you’re obsessed with checking to make sure
I’m loaded. I don’t like the glint in your eye, or the way you mutter to yourself while you spin my cylinder, around and around. I think
you’re planning something.
Don’t worry, my friend. When you finally pull my trigger, I will help you.
I will misfire.