The velcro strap fit over the Ithica's shortened barrel, so that it was held tight against my leg, but not at an angle where if something went terribly wrong I'd shoot my kneecap off. I wanted to say his name. He moved, but looked puzzled. He didn't offer to fight back, but he didn't get out of the way, either.
His eyes closed, and a shudder ran through him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Anita, what's wrong? Did he hurt you? Who, I thought? Who was he? There were so many hes. He looked up at me, and his eyes held something like pain. I know, I know, profanity doesn't solve anything.
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