Page 163 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

His Brother’s Keeper

Harry never thought seriously about killing himself. But then,
Harry never suffered from depression. If anything, he was

just the opposite. He suffered from occasional anxiety attacks,
during which he thought he was going to die. In the end, it’s
probably similar to thinking that you want to kill yourself.

“But I’ve got a gun,” Ed said, his eyes brightening. He sat
erect on the couch, and looked at Harry for the first time since
he arrived.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. He knew Ed
had as much an aversion to guns as he had, despite the fact that
Ed spent two years in the peacetime army and had to learn to
use a gun in basic training.

“I’ll show you,” Ed said, getting up, alert now, and going
to a drawer in an old chest that leaned against one wall. All the
furnishings were Ed’s, an eclectic mix of Danish modern and
not-very-antique, that he had acquired over the years. Harry
was all too familiar with the lot of it, having helped move it
from one apartment to another over a score of years, partic-

ularly the black leather couch, soft and wide, that served as
Harry’s bed on many a night.

Ed lifted a pistol from the drawer and, holding it by the
trigger, carried it over to the marble coffee table. He dropped
it onto a pile of magazines casually. Harry stared at it. Guns
made him nervous.

“Is it loaded?” he asked.

“Yup,” is what Ed replied. Just like that. “Yup.”

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