in the moment after

He didn't believe in an afterlife.

Yet someone he knew that there was ground beneath his feet, metal sitting in his fingertips, and a bullet in his brain.

It wasn't the silence that he was imagining when he pulled the trigger.

Bang.

No.

This was a wash of regret and confusion and anger.

This was watching your own body fall to the ground as you float in a sea of mystic bullshit.

It was everything and nothing that he wanted.

And it played again and again and again in front of him.

Barely a minute of time.

Hanging up the phone.

Picking up the gun.

Falling to the ground.

Hanging up the phone.

Picking up the gun.

Falling to the ground.

Hanging up the phone.

Picking up the gun.

Falling to the ground.

Again and again and again.

Taunting him with the knowledge of his final decision.

This was the outlier of his life?

This was what the fates decided he needed to look at as the last of his breaths escaped his body?

Not friendship.

Not love.

Not heartbreak.

Just death.

Hanging up the phone.

Picking up the gun.

Falling to the ground.