Telluride
Where's my G-d damn gun
I take a deep breath
Rubbing my aching eyes
A greasy rag on the table
Red, dark red....maroon
Blood and oil
Damn it...
I see the shape of my revolver underneath and snatch it out
Roughly holstering it on my hip.
I pull out the chair, and sit down
Groaning at the stiffness in my knee
*sigh*....
The room is dark, but for a small window high on the back wall
A simple window
A single pane
Grimy and smeared
I pull my gun from it's holster
Running a hand along the slick, cold, metal
The bond between a man and his gun
Between a man, and his tools
It's what separates us from the animals
It's what separates us from them
It's what keeps us alive
That's what he used to say
Damn at least I think so
It's been so long...
I rest my face on my hand for a moment
Feeling the scruff
How did I get here?
How did it get so bad?
*sniff*
I rise to my feet, taking my coat from the wall.
The feeling of arms entering sleeves
Clothing is the only embrace you're gonna get
It's the only embrace you deserve.
I check the cylinder, give it a spin
Lock it in
One in the chamber
*sigh*...alright
And so it begins
Once again...