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.