If All Things Could be Fixed With A Gun

I had started practice three weeks ago. I was now too good with a gun, and the angel traced the demons location.

I was laying in the guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Shadows danced across it, shifting and turning.

Tomorrow was the day we would go after the demon. We would spend hours driving, before we even got a whiff of if he was still there or not. I knew I should sleep, by my eyes didn't want to give in.

My mind wandered opening up to the other crazy possibilities for this new life I was living.

Eventually, sleep overtook me.

My last thought before I fell into sleep was I would die for this.