The grip is cold but gentle.
I feel the pressure, it's a true gamble.
One bullet in the chamber.
Words that slowly fade to a whisper.
If I wait to pull the trigger I may miss,
If I shoot now, the recoil may **** me.
I have had some target practice.
I guess I must be at my boldest.
Three deep breaths, four, five.
I need more oxygen If I'm to attempt a revive.
My pupils dilate as I decide.
BANG.
It's quite scary, the choice between waiting and having a chance of missing the opportunity. Or taking a risk and having a chance of ******* it up.
