He placed the muzzle underneath his chin. It felt comfortable there, snug. A good fit, a good place to light up the night, turn the town red. A little too comfortable actually and frankly a little too soon. He had other business to look forward to. He put the gun down, put his head in his hands, staring at it some more.
How much longer would he need to think about it, muster the courage to go ahead and just do it? How much more would he have to tolerate their smugness? Dante did not mind people smarter than him, actually admired those who were. But they weren’t, they weren’t enough and it grated on his nerves. But soon, soon it would change and he would end it, their taunting and his suffering. All in one fell swoop, like a cannonball through a set of precisely placed pins.
And he knew where each one was and going to be. He’d get to them all and pay his final respects.