He thinks he has me.
From the sun-roof, light cascades into the office and splinters off the snub of his silver gun.
Man’s knee-jerk reaction to violence is as clichéd as a chastising nun; all because I will not absolve his debt.
His ridge-top hat casts a half-moon shadow over his face.
Sitting behind my desk he looks like a giant, but aren’t giants exclusively toppled by mice.
Little does he know that in three seconds five men will surround him like a sickle round a hammer.
His attempted robbery will be over.
Behind him, the door to my office bursts open.
Five men flood inside and arrest him with rifles in hand.
I have won.
This fool, with half a shadow for a face, will be locked up before sun-fall today.
In surrender, he holds up his hands as if he is praying to God for help. But through the shadow, I see him smiling.
I’ve forgotten the power of a name.
Five rifles are pointing at me.
Perhaps I should have thought twice about lending money to ‘Billy the Kid’.
Hannah Hannan is a hardworking data-input clerk with aspirations of reaching the stars from her step ladder. Unfortunately, she’s a homo-sapien, therefore she relies on oxygen and there ain’t no much oxygen in space.