Revolver

Before dinner, each of us takes turns holding my brother-in-law's gun, a new .357 Magnum. It is a clean, heavy piece of mechanical technology, and its burnished steel parts move smoothly and quietly, like a well-made steam engine: both anachronistic and beautiful.

As I pass it to Katie, I'm reminded of a conversation we had many years ago with my mom about gun ownership. Katie spins the cylinder, which blurs silently, then, with a flip of her wrist, snaps it back into the body of a gun, where it settles with a satisfying click, and then she gives a big smile.

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One year ago: Lazy

Two years ago: If Someone Tells You They're Crazy, Believe Them

Three years ago: Teach Me To Just Shove Things In My Face

Four years ago: What Else Are You Gonna Do In Sun City?

Ten years ago: Absolution