I looked at the gun and it fired.
My finger was left on the trigger
and the bullet went into the range but high
so that it left a poof-dust on the ceiling
but no one noticed—my heart
sped up, I’d literally watched fire fire from the barrel.
First lesson: never put your finger on the trigger
until you are sure of the target you want to destroy
and what’s beyond it.
That night, I thought, what if the gun
had been aiming at me? My face? My foot?
My chest? I thought about it and thought about it
until I decided not to regret anything
anymore.
The following morning
I was still happy I owned a gun.