“The weight’s off, 0.2mg.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Am I?”

He pulls a bullet from his back pocket and fills an empty chamber.

“What’s going on?”

“Field test.”

He aims the gun.

“Hang about…”

Sweat swiftly patters the floor.

He draws the trigger.


The room echoes for a moment and a body stands shaking.

A hole shoots a midday beam from the back wall.

“See, were it on weight, you’d be missing your friend down there. You should be thankful.”

A damp patch warms.

“G…get out. No sale.”

He shrugs.

“Your loss.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s