Did I tell you my gun story?
No. Not really interested.
We accompanied your brother and his friends to watch them shoot their guns. It was Christmas break. There was nothing else to do. Your dad was there too.
Yeah.
And then they asked me if I wanted to shoot one, which I didn't really want to, but did anyway. I think we were shooting at milk containers full of water.
Yeah, I remember.
Then they asked you if you wanted to shoot one. These were handguns. And you said yes. So they gave you the gun.
Yeah.
I just remember, without saying a word to each other, without even looking at each other, suddenly your dad and I are standing like literally a foot behind you... close enough to grab you. For everybody else, when they shot, we would back up, give them room. But for you, as soon as that gun was in your hand, we were practically touching you we were so close.
Thanks... Now that I think about it... that's a beautiful story.
I hate myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment