A 100 word story.
DEAF
'He saw his hand pick up the Derringer as the stool beside it fell to the ground.
He saw himself move towards Mr. Timothy as he stumbled on chairs and fell the coffee table.
Sprouted across the sofa in a drunken stupor, there Mr. Timothy lay.
He saw his hand point the Derringer towards Mr. Timothy's chest and then saw the cream cotton shirt that
covered Mr. Timothy's hairy chest turn crimson.
He saw the Derringer drop to the ground.
He saw his hand pick up the gun and point it towards his temple...his final thought?
"Why can't I hear a damn thing?"'
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