The ground swirled beneath my feet, my legs felt weak, like I was about to collapse. What happened next was something indescribable.
The Shotgun Waltz
So it’s all come down to this… Pacing the stained carpet in a cheap motel room, clutching my trusty shotgun in a death grip. I swore to myself that I would never let it end this way: overflowing ashtray on the bedside table, neon light bleeding through the thin curtains. Any minute now, any goddamn minute.
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