Water Balloon Russian Roulette

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Beads of sweat form on my forehead, catching the dim lamp light. I raise my hand and put pressure on the trigger, but I hesitate. My hand is shaking. I review the events that lead me to this damp, dark basement. What choices brought me here? The drinking, the drugs, that party. I think the mob was there? The memories start fading together, swirling around as I come back into the present to confront my fate. We live our lives with no knowledge of the probabilities which determine our destinies. 1:6 odds. Live or get wet. This is it. I squeeze the trigger.
 


 

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