Silver Pistol

The wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the floorboards were exposed to my sore and bare feet. Every move I made creaked under me but the unhygienic man was to hypnotised by a square box. I then reached into my pocket of my ripped and crummy khakis. My warm thumb rubbed along a cold piece of metal as I snatched it out and placed it neatly behind a greasy man's head. I pulled the trigger and blood sputtered out onto me and the tattered lounge. I strolled out the door, not looking back.