Writer: Paul Thelen

The Gun I Used To Own


I’m upright in my bed day-dreaming that I could fall asleep when I’m interrupted by the clash of a couple, drunken, presumably, skirmishing beneath my bedroom window— the pair are shouting acrimonious words back-and-forth like a tennis match drenched in gin and hatred. I can’t discern the source of their disagreement, but from the woman’smore