Friday, September 17, 2010

Not quite newly weds, now

She was sitting there, huge black tea mug steaming, the gun so flatly, falsely innocuous on the table. I asked her where she'd got it, and she said: "That fruit vendor, the one we always buy the avocados from."

I asked her what she was doing. She told me: "I can't keep doing this; there's no way this is going to last forever."

The gun brushed gently through her hair, rested on her temple.

She gasped: I'd snatched the gun from her hand, and pulled the trigger, the muzzle pushed into my chin. The hammer clicked in air.

She blinked, I blinked.

Quick as I had, she had the gun against her again, and I watched the entire universe, her finger, squeeze into a fist. The hammer clicked in air.

She blinked, I blinked.

I asked her what now. She said: "Not this week, Eh? Would you like some coffee?"

For the first time in ages, we genuinely smiled at each other.