Flash Fiction

Recover

She walked out of a Town And Country magazine spread into my rent-in-the-arrears strip mall office.

Don’t take your coat off, I said to her. Don’t take a seat. Don’t speak, there’s nothing left to say and sure as hell nothing I can do for ya. Turn around and walk away. Now.

She slowly turned and then suddenly back to empty her revolver. Three of the rounds found me. Two were through and through. One found a home an inch from my heart.

Recovering from its removal, the D.A. chatted me up. Accidental, how could her actions have been an accident, he demanded.

I told him that I couldn’t quite recall all the particulars currently, but I’m sure it would all come back presently, if I were called to so testify.

Particulars, he snickered, like how she punked ya to take the fall for her husband’s murder?

In fact, I did kill her husband, (I lied.) but that jury you picked found self-defense.

That’s true, he nodded, they did, he agreed. Then backing out of the hospital room, he concluded, you can put on one hell of a show, you know….yep…You do know how to testify.

Praise the Lord, I whispered, and fell quickly and gently to sleep.

Published by r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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