“He put it in my palm, and he asked me how it felt to hold it. You know what I said?” He glances at me. “I told him that I was scared. He smacked me on the back of the head and said, ‘You’re holding a fucking gun. The only people who should be scared are the ones on the other end of it.’” He shakes his head. “…I don’t know why I just thought of that, but I keep remembering all of it. The way the gun felt heavy and cold in my hand, how I was so terrified of the trigger or of dropping it. And there he was…disappointed.”
uhm what?
