

Corner Store
The black revolver fit Kareem’s hand perfectly. Davin called it a thirty-eight special, and told him not to worry about the size, the snub-nose was the shit. It was as reliable as his mother yelling at him through the fourth floor window to call him inside for dinner. “See,” Davin said, pointing at Kareem’s face and smiling. Kareem gripped the handle tight, his finger hovering over the trigger. The thin bar of metal was placed perfectly in range for him to squeeze it. How eas