The safety was flicked off, the hammer cocked.
The gun was one inch above the seam of my pants pocket. A sudden move and the thing might go off. I closed both eyes and held my breath to slow everything down, breathing only to catch my breath. It was a couple of pounds, maybe three, and I felt it hanging, the weight of bullets pressed inside the hollow grip and tugging down on the waistband of my khakis.
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