The gun was small, denser than it looked, and felt as if it carried the weight of the world inside it.

“How much?” Jenny asked despite herself. She wasn’t even into guns .

“For you? Gimme fifty and we’ll call it square.” The pawn shop owner mumbled after giving her a lazy once over.

It was too much and too little at the same time.

“I don’t know…”

“Of course you don’t. But you feel that weight in your hand? I call that confidence. No one will be able to tell you what to do ever again.” His voice carried conviction. He knew what he was talking about.

Jenny turned the gun over in her hands. Even in the dim lighting of the pawn shop she could see all the nicks and dents the gun carried. This gun had seen a life time worth of action. Starting tonight that legacy could be hers.

It was the handle that decided it. Inscribed in the bottom were the initials J.V.B.- one of the owners had shared her first and last initial. It was if she’d already owned it and was merely reclaiming her property.

“I’ll take it.”