Aniz Adam Ansari | Savannah College of Art and Design

I stumbled out of the flowers early that morning. I walked into my house to find The Man in Glasses waiting for me in the den. I stepped back and reached for my revolver, but before I could draw he cut me off. “You can put your gun away. I’m not here to fight this time.”

I paused and held my gun to my side. “What do you want from me now? I thought we had settled this.” He looked at me with a sullen expression and told me straight: “He’s dead.”

My face went pale as he continued, “He got big front on an ounce of blow, but he dipped too hard into the stash and fucked his money up. When he couldn’t pay them back in time, they sent that Masked Goon to break his face with a bat. He caved in his skull and left him to bleed out on the streets.”

I went weak in the knees and stumbled into a chair. It seemed like yesterday we were just kids cutting school to smoke Newports and drink liquor in the woods. I guess time moves fast when you’re fucked up on drugs. One day he’s here and the next day he’s gone.

I started to collect my thoughts. I knew what I had to do. That fucker had to die. I checked the rounds in my revolver, and walked to the dresser at the end of the den. I grabbed a bandanna out of the top drawer and tied it around my face. The Man in Glasses looked at me puzzled. “Why are you wearing a mask? You’ve had run-ins with that Goon before, he’s gonna know it’s you.”

I laughed as I pulled the mask over my face. “I’m not trying to hide my identity. I’m just trying to hide the grin on my face.”