Thursday, January 21, 2016

Shooting at Flowers

There was a gravel path all around the house, above it a balcony along two sides of the second floor. Pink petals, blown off of little flowers in the bed that ringed the path, were strewn about the pebbles, here and there.

“Look at that one,” Jean-Nicolas said.

I peered over the railing. The pebbles looked far away from here. Then again they looked pretty close. I was getting dizzy. Jean-Nicolas was indicating a petal with the tip of his gun. He brought the butt to his shoulder and took careful aim, peering straight down through the sight and to the ground.

“I see it,” I said.

He pulled the trigger and pebbles scattered from the spot the pellet struck. The petal leapt up bounced around a second. It landed in much the same position, in almost the same spot. You couldn’t tell whether he’d actually hit it or not.