He raised his Glock semi-automatic revolver, and pointed, almost touching my face. I felt the cold sweat running down my forehead. My heart wanted to escape but I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips. I was steering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun.
How did it come to this, he was taking it too far. All I wanted was a kiss from his sixteen-year-old daughter.
His eyes are unmoving, his steer solid as steel. There is determination written all over his brow. I was sure I saw a horn growing there once, but could have been my mind, or, got to add a note to self: unicorns do not exist.
It was winter and just one week before Christmas and I was completely broke. I mean, I had no money, no job, and no debts to collect. I even tried collecting honest cash on a public bus. It was full and I got up and told them the truth. I was not collecting for any lame-duck organizations. I would like to tell them that this money was for me, but it was for him. The owner of the corner store, who refused to give me more credit until I paid up.
They threw me off the bus, promising to call the cops if I ever came back.
So, yes, I was stiff broke, not even an item of value that I could sell. I thought about visiting my only living relative, my Aunt Carmi. However, the last time she almost called the cops too. I only wanted to feel if her bosom was real or fake. I have overcome that weakness, I wrote a note to myself: Aunt Carmi is my Aunt.
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