Part 6 of 9 - The Mysterious Man

I force a smile.  You bastard.  I don't know what's worse: if you feel no shame, or if you honestly don't remember.  I tip my hat.  If you'd have just said, 'How can I make it up to you?' or 'Your wife was just in the wrong place - I am truly sorry,' I might just have the drink with you and leave.  But you don't remember me, or her, at all.  I can wait no longer.  All I say is, "I just wanted to give you a shot."  Out comes my right hand, revolver clenched in its palm, revenge possessing its trigger finger. His forehead. Point blank. For Sally.