Door Number 3- Flash Fiction

“It’s time.”

“I don’t know if I can do this sober.”

“That’s not an option. Man up.”

“Let me get my boots on.” He got off the couch and went to the back bedroom. As he laced up his boots he thought about his choices. He didn’t want to go through door number 1 or door number 2. Damned if he could see his way to a door number 3.

Jess stood at the door. “We gotta go now! Do I have to drag your ass to the car?”

In the car, Jess said, “You think too much. Nothing’s ever as bad as you think it’s going to be.”

“If I think too much, then why in the hell am I in this car with you?”

Jess snorted, “I didn’t make you do nothing. Just follow orders and survive. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

Jess hadn’t made him do anything, but there would be a door number 3 if he’d never met him.

Jess stopped the car. “Here’s the gun. It’s untraceable. Just pick up the brass.”

He took the gun and made sure the safety was off before he got out of the car. He turned back to Jess. “Just one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He pulled the trigger. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He remembered to pick up the brass.

Word count 223