Micro Stories

luck pusher

“don’t push it,” he said.

a fine mist of blood painted me crimson. their bodies hit the ground harder than seemed realistic, fallen stones, heavier than any breath i’d ever held, any secret that’d weighed down my lungs.

i hid my grin, biding my time.

i wasn’t impressed with these people, killing their own to frighten me into squealing. they’d brought me here, thinking i was the woman they’d threatened into working for them last week. they should’ve made the deal in person. should’ve known my face.

he slowly lowered the gun, smug in his stance, feet firm on the cement. dust floated into the air. his minion coughed.

i didn’t like acting scared. it didn’t agree with me. good thing i only had to stall for another few minutes. just long enough to keep them here, long enough for the others to find it. just long enough…

their mercenary came out of the back room.

they’d patted me down.

hadn’t checked my hair.



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