He looked inside the barrel, but couldn't remember where it was.
His eyes were watery, squinty, lying...
I asked him to relax; his nervousness made me nervous.
His hands grasped his scalp indelicately as his lips worked, wordless and exhaling.
Eyes like dotted billiards flicked, but an instant, at a portrait on a string.
A gasp, a bang, a barrel, smoking...
To my accomplice, "the safe's behind the painting. We're rich."
Check out the Man...
This article may contain affiliate links. We earn a commission on qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you. Thanks for your support!