My hands firmly cup the molded steel, its cold and ridged shape occupying all my senses. There was no recollection of how I got here or exactly where I was. Then I see the others. I can’t hear their voices but I can feel them shouting. I don’t even remember where I found the gun or how I made it to this point but I am certain it must be fate so I introduce the end of the barrel to my temple and smile. One lone soul steps away from the crowd, towards me, mouthing words of sanity that only come out as buzzing. The trigger feels good, feels right against my finger, like an old friend. After saying a silent prayer of thanks I’m ready for the final darkness and pull.
Nothing. My brain refuses to send the message to my limbs; my finger backs away and becomes paralyzed. Using this moment of bodily mutiny, that lone soul snatches away my false savior. The pressure of gravity becomes too heavy and I shatter, sinking to the floor sobbing and shaking. My senses bombarded by the rustling of others. The touch of a comforting hand scalds on contact, forcing me to pull away. And as my body struggles to fold in on itself, to concentrate the pain, the only thought that runs through my head is a question. Why can’t I melt into the ground and meld with the earth?
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