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Steve Vernon's avatar

I grappled with the burglar, trying to get the pistol twisted from his grip.

That was a mistake.

He twisted and the pistol went off and the .38 caliber bullet smoked out of the hollow of the pistol barrel like a steam engine chuffing out of a mountain.

The bullet, of course, was moving far too quickly to see, only slowing down as it struck the forehead of my wife who had just at that moment in irretrievable time, plowing through a lifetime of memories, leaving me with the rest of my lifetime to regret.

She fell to the floor, dying, as my heart broke into countless pieces of sharded regret.

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