The tension rose like a slug into Sam’s
temple as though there were a blood clot in his brain: deep deep pain like he was
being cut with a knife as far as the bone.
This was it. This was the moment.
His eyes flicked to the right and
left. The mirror behind the bar gave an inverted view of the crowd of potential
witnesses. So many people; no gun; Jack was younger than he was; ten years
younger; and bigger: blond hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders beneath his
slightly soiled white shirt. Sam memorised every mark and trait.
Jack was thinking about the people
here too, obviously. Neither one of them wanted to face the other in this type
of location.
“Let’s go outside,” said Jack.
Sam nodded, keeping his eyes on him
as they stood.
The two of them walked toward the
door. There were people in the way. An elderly man and his matronly daughter.
He and Jack waited for them to sit before they continued. The darkness through
the front door was like the edge of the world. The pressure in Sam’s forehead
was intense. Jack was in front. He reached out and opened the door, holding it
for Sam.
Then he stepped out too.
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