Guns

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

He walked into the den where his wife was writing. ‘They’re dead.’

‘Huh?’

‘My mother. She said. They died.’

‘Who?’

‘My brother.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘His son too…’

‘Your Godson?’

‘Not anymore.’ He stared out the window.

She hugged him.

He sighed, then chuckled, then began laughing uncontrollably; tears streamed down his face.

‘What is wrong with you?’

‘Maybe now they’ll change the gun laws.’

‘What do you mean?’

He turned on the television. ‘… gunman was the father of a child killed in the Newtown massacre.’ A pause. ‘For those of you just joining, at least twenty are dead with many more wounded at the NRA Convention in Louisville, Kentucky.’