What You Wished For
She wasn’t holding a gun the last time I saw her. I probably wouldn’t be standing if she was, judging by the fresh body bleeding on the dusty floor of the saloon. The words slip out of my mouth before I realize I’m saying anything.
“He the one?”
The blank look slipped off her face. She looks at me, and she doesn’t even seem surprised to see me.
“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it was him.”
I nod. She’s been searching for revenge for ten years, and I’ve been searching for her almost as long.
And now that our searches are over, all either of us can do is stare.