A Gun to the Head

“Hey, look at this!” I turned around to find a pistol pointed at my head, a bead taken right between my eyes. Danny (not his real name) adjusted his grip, put his left hand over his right, stretched out his arms and brought the gun even closer. His finger was on the trigger. I couldn’t see anything but that gun, couldn’t see Danny’s face or his smile as he said: “Cool, huh?”

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