Guns, by Jane Smith
My father killed himself with a perfectly legal handgun left over from his law enforcement days. He kept it long after he retired, in the top drawer of a mahogany chest of drawers in our big hall, unloaded but right beside the ammunition. My brother and I knew not to touch it…not ever. Dad was troubled about his health, and the gun was handy and available that December morning. I don’t know if he would have used another method. I just know he didn’t.
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