Fiona doesn’t like oral sex because she was once forced
to do it at gunpoint, in a car, in the
parking lot next to the railroad tracks, outside the bar
where the guy picked her up. I wish she hadn’t
told me. I hear freight trains. I see people coming
out of the bar, laughing, drunk, going to their cars
while she crouches in misery and fear, the gun at
her head. How easy, if I had the gun at
his head, to pull the trigger. I would have raised
the revolver and shot the guy dead between the eyes.
Paraphrases from “The Collected Stories” of Leonard Michaels.