He slapped me three plastic bullets and a gun. “Aim at the prize,” a toothpick danced between his lips as he spoke. I took the gun and aimed at the sheep doll across the counter.

Aim. Hit. Miss.

From behind, thrill-seeking children swung and screamed. Overdosed neon, red and yellow, like warning signs against the fall’s pitch-dark sky. The greasy scent of apple fries and corndogs. Parents on standby.

Bang. Another miss.

My week ahead loomed over me: divorce lawyers at 9, movers at 11, lease, biopsy, unemployment agency.

My fingers tightened on the trigger. One more bullet to go.

I need this win.

Bang.

 

 

Titi Kusumandari is an Indonesian writer navigating corporate slide decks by day and existential prose by night. Based in Brussels, Belgium, their work has appeared in InsideIndonesia.org, forthcoming in Porch lit mag. Her sheep toy still hangs in her room.