Tom Florczak, a writer I met on Absolute Write Water Cooler, offered to let me post this short story. I liked it, and I think you will too.
by Tom Florczak
The revolver gleefully took the five bullets. Anthony looked down at the empty glass. He lamented that his last drink wasn't his best. Across the table sat her picture. It was impossible to decide whether her smile or green eyes was her best feature. In his pocket was a piece of paper he used to keep with him at all times. With tears in his eyes he pulled it out and took a glance at it. The tears fogged up his vision as he read the ornate words she wrote, 'The sand may wash away but my love will not.' He kissed the folded up piece of paper wishing she was still here.
He rhetorically asked himself, “Why do we bother with love if it never lasts?” Jesus, Krishna, Aristotle, Kant, none of them could help him. He wondered if he was too foolish for philosophy or philosophy was too foolish for him. Every philosophy book he read was like a drug. It would satisfy him for a while until he needed another fix to stay content. Eventually no philosophy in the world could save him now. He was at a dead end.
With a trembling hand he picked the revolver up, pushing the end of it at his head while cocking it. He firmly grasped the piece of paper filled with lies. Out of one last act of defiance for the present he began sobbing and trying to sing a happy song. The sobs blocked out any singing and he knew he was out of options. After all, the best part of him was her.
It only required one motion of the finger, one slight movement to end all feelings forever. He pulled the trigger and an empty click rang out. That was the sixth bullet: the wild card. Anthony solemnly put the gun down on the table and stood up. He received one more chance at life. He resolved not to mess up this time.