Target Practice
Bang!
The shot rang out in the corridor filling the air with the scent of black powder and smoke mingled with the tangy aroma of citrus. Pulp, pith and peel spattered against the reinforced steel barricade. Amelia Canard chambered a round, focused the crosshairs on the next orange in the row and gently squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
Another orange burst into a sticky mess as Donovan Steele poked his head around the corner.
“Bad day?”
“Shut up.”
click-Bang!
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What part of ‘shut up’ was unclear to you?”
click-Bang!
“Look, I know talking isn’t really your strong suit but-“
click-Bang!
“I think-“
click-Bang! click-Bang! click-Bang!
“Would you just quit for one damn second?!”
“Fine,” Amelia lowered the rifle and cleared the chamber. “What do you want me to say?”
“Anything! Whatever you want. Just talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t feel like talking.”
“You never feel like talking. You always bottle everything up and act like nothing gets to you and then out of nowhere you just explode!”
“Well, technically speaking, they’re exploding,” she mumbled flatly, nodding in the direction of the mangled fruit.
“Don’t try to joke your way out of this. I’m trying to help you. Will you let me help?”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can try. Give me a chance. You don’t have to tell me everything. We can tackle whatever you’re going through.”
“You really want to help?”
“Yes.”
“Here. Go set these up for me.”
Donovan fumbled slightly as he caught the awkward, lumpy sack of oranges and then shuffled over to the banister.
“This isn’t really what I meant, but…”
He removed a fruit from the sack and noticed a black mark coming around the side. Turning the orange over in his hand, he found “Donovan” scrawled across the peel in black marker ink.
“Really, Amelia?”
Amelia did not respond as she loaded new rounds into the magazine. Donovan placed the fruit on the banister and made a neat row of fresh targets. His shoulders slumped and his voice was thick as he pleaded.
“Am I really so awful?”
Amelia squinted through the sight on the rifle and loaded the chamber. The crosshairs found the pupil of Donovan’s right eye as he turned to face her.
Bang!
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
