It amazes me that suicide has been called a cowardly act. Man, it takes real balls to even walk right to the precipice.
Some lines moved in my mind
Not with a bang
But a whimper.
Shouted,
“I don’t fucking do whimper.”
My words caught on the wind, framed and cast among the rocks that were sentries to the Atlantic Ocean.
I nearly laughed as I realized I’d forgotten to take a drink. I took the gun out of my pocket, let it rest against my leg, thumbed the hammer back, relishing yet again the comforting clunk of the action. Like an apprentice Zippo.
I continued to look toward America and felt the gun tremble a little. Would I sneak up on myself, so to speak, the left hand not knowing what the right planned?
I asked,
“Is that it?”
And
Answered,
“On the other hand...”