Blink
Kelli Clise-Riffle
All I needed that night was a fix.
I didn’t plan to kill myself.
My mouth watered at the sight
my hands shook with anticipation
of the smack and my works.
High as hell, not much could kill
that buzz. The revolver on
the table between us and a suggestion.
A game.
A voice in my head whispered,
“Why the fuck not?” Another
said, “Are you stupid?”
The barrel was cold and tasted
of gunpowder and oil
when I placed it in my mouth and
looked across the table at
my opponent,
pulled the trigger and heard
the loudest “click” I’ve ever
heard. Put the gun
between us,
on the table,
and smiled.
A challenge.
Our eyes met and locked for a moment.
He swallowed hard and picked up
the gun, spun the chambers,
placed the barrel against
his head, closed his eyes
pulled the trigger,
“Click.”
Back to the center of the table
went the gun. I reached
out and picked it up.
The metal wasn’t as cold now,
spun the chambers around,
put the gun to my head,
took a deep breath---
Suddenly, my arm was jerked
upward, and startled
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through the
ceiling, deafening to me.
My friend, who came in
behind me, saved me from myself.
His eyes wide in fear and
astonishment, took
the gun from my fingers and threw
it out the window.
My opponent left quickly after
one look at my friends face.
My friend hugged and rocked me,
making me promise
never again, never again.
He cried and said “it’s not that bad.”
I nodded and said, “But I just didn’t
want to be the one to blink.”
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