At first it was simply an idea, a tiny crack in our once-perfect love, a fissure that deepened with each wayward glance, awkward silence, and “late night at the office” until it finally grew into the full-blown suspicion that drove me to follow you and to bring along that old handgun you kept by our bed.
You were angry, as if it was my fault for bursting in on you and that bitch in the middle of such an intimate moment, making it seem like you were the victim here, and even telling me to shut up and calm down, which is when I laughed and pulled out the gun.
I only wish you could’ve seen the dumbfounded look on your face as I emptied the gun: three bullets for her, so you could watch, then two for you, right in your stupid face, and now the last one, for me.
Flash Fiction challenge from Terrible Minds. Seems pretty okay. I’m gonna be making myself do more of these.