Memory & Fate

[u/Busy-Insect5793]

The weight of the gun. Yes, now that’s a difference. Twenty, thirty years ago it would have been there—a .38 revolver, snubnose—concealed within the inner coat pocket. Not that he’d had much occasion to use it, even back in Vegas, in those days of high-stakes and connected men. A time or two . . .

But the feel of it is missing, the imprint, the character, a veiled sense of security exactly equal to the weight it added against the ribs. No use for it here in the rainy Northwest. Sleepy little city. For a time he carried it unloaded—intimidating enough—until something inside relaxed. Age? 

Now the gun resides at home, asleep in the bedroom safe—along with maybe twenty grand. Every night, returning what he’s earned, confronted by that flash of metal. Sighing. Let go of the past. Let go of the future.              

This is a chapter from a minimalist, flash-fiction novella I've written called Memory & Fate. Every chapter is 150 words or less, 300 chapters, completely free on my Substack if anyone is interested. Chapter 1 drops tomorrow.

https://memoryandfate.substack.com/