How I shot a man

in story •  7 years ago  (edited)

It wasn't hard. No, it wasn't even me in that moment. It was just that. It was blackness it was me then nothing. I was gone for a second, yet I still held that gun. My finger was on the trigger. I knew I had to pull it. "NOW!" I heard.

My heart was pumping, and his was no longer.

story writing poetry
7 years ago by

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