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Show 167 with that knowledge and responsibility. She tried to comfort me by saying that she was just curious what it was like to own a gun and that if she were ever going to kill herself, it would be some other way. She wanted the same gun Steve bought, but the gun store salesman talked her into a smaller, cuter model. We liked to hike out to Steve's area near the water. There, we had the option of shooting slightly to the right and into the hills, or to the left, a loud shot over the water and off to flat nowhere, which made me nervous. There was also the classic redneck shot straight into the sky, which I was always tempted by not only because of my roots but because it seemed balanced, somehow, as though the fast, bright gun shot was lightning gathering itself, changing its mind, and heading back in the other direction. Tamara had only one set of ear plugs and I wasn't comfortable sharing them so whenever either of us shot I heard a loud noise in my ears that reminded me of the sharp vibration of two metal bats colliding in a light saber duel among two last-pick outfielders. This Thursday, instead of driving to Grantsville and shooting, Tamara said she thought she was OK and we just ate lunch and went our separate ways. It was 11 PM when she called me back and asked me if I wanted to out there with her. I pointed out that it was 11 at night. She said she knew that, and it was fine if I didn't want to go but she thought she would ask. The forecast said it was supposed to snow tomorrow and she didn't want everything to be covered up without seeing it once more. |