A Natural

Her body nearly disappeared in his unbuttoned dress shirt—the one she had pulled down from the drying rack last night after discarding her clothes. She looked so small. So innocent.

But what didn't look innocent, and what chased away his moment of relief, was the gun in her hand.

The gun that gleamed with pearly raindrops when he opened the door last night. The gun that irately fired into Norma's belly when she was too slow, showing where the liquor cabinet was. The gun that poked Bill's back as he carried his dead wife into the garage.

The gun that overnight had taught him how to be a natural.

©2010





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