Clive reached inside his satchel. Stuffed among legal papers, there was a .38 caliber pistol he wasn’t going to use and a pack of Winstons. He retrieved a cigarette and slid the filter between his lips. He lit it, savored the drag because it would be his last.
Broken glass betrayed his footfalls. Good, he thought. He gave the smoke a long pull. Let the nicotine tickle his nostrils. He regarded his tossed living room furniture, the floor covered by a sea of scattered papers, and he wondered how this would feel if he still felt fear, if the finality of death still concerned him. An infant’s shrill petition was the best way to describe his thoughts on fretfulness. As a baby, he cried for milk; he was sure of this. But he didn’t remember it. And he didn’t remember the last time he was afraid. Now, he was sure that a large man was in his house, waiting to harm him, and he chuckled because he couldn’t care less.
James Fant is an author of inspirational romance and suspense. He lives in South Carolina, where the mountains and the beaches have befriended him. His books include:
An Ode for Orchids
Close the Door
The Secret Branch
The Mended Fence