The Gun Seller

Pain is an event. It happens to you, and you deal with it in whatever way you can.

Pain is an event. It happens to you, and you deal with it in whatever way you can.

Solomon was standing, staring at the wall. If there’d been a window, he’d probably have stared out of that, but there wasn’t.

I know you’re telling me that,’ I said. ‘But you’re a psychopath, whose word isn’t worth a flake of sick.’

I was shown into a room. A red room. Red wallpaper, red curtains, red carpet. They said it was a sitting-room, but I don’t know why they’d decided to confine its purpose just to sitting. Obviously, sitting was one of the things you could do in a room this size; but you could also stage operas, hold cycling races, and have an absolutely cracking game of frisbee, all at the same time, without having to move any of the furniture.
It could rain in a room this big.

When he’d checked the speed, the revs, the fuel, the oil pressure, the temperature, the time, and his seatbelt, twice, he decided he could afford an answer