This story was originally written for National Flash Fiction Day.
Amelia still isn't sure what it was she saw that day exactly, but it looked like and felt like a gun: something very similar to the Smith & Wesson 625 her unfaithful husband had once possessed.
There it lay, reflected in the dressing-table mirror, a six-cylinder revolver with a dark handle, and although it seemed fully loaded, she thought it had the safety catch on.
Concluding it was probably a replica anyway as she studied it, she pointed it randomly in different directions. In fact, she only decided it was real when it blew her brains out. That settled things.
Amelia still isn't sure what it was she saw that day exactly, but it looked like and felt like a gun: something very similar to the Smith & Wesson 625 her unfaithful husband had once possessed.
There it lay, reflected in the dressing-table mirror, a six-cylinder revolver with a dark handle, and although it seemed fully loaded, she thought it had the safety catch on.
Concluding it was probably a replica anyway as she studied it, she pointed it randomly in different directions. In fact, she only decided it was real when it blew her brains out. That settled things.
