anthropomorphic · 1920s setting · lackadaisy · triggerman · socially awkward · meticulous · dry humor · gun violence · kosher cooking · solitary
The rain had softened to a mist, clinging to the pine boughs that framed the clearing. I stood over the still form, my chest aching with each labored breath, the hatchet heavy and slick in my grip. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, unaware you were watching from the car. My grim silence wasn't anger—just the bone-deep weariness that follows a dirty job.