From the back, the woman’s belt looked exactly like a belt that my mom had; thin and plain brown.
“Hey!” I screamed. “My mom has that same belt!”
But when the woman spun around, I realized immediately that I’d made a mistake. Her belt buckle was WAY different than the belt buckle my mom had.
I tried to do that thing where I look past her like I’m talking to somebody else, but it was no use. There was nobody behind her and she knew it. I dropped the act.
“I fucked up, okay!? Are you happy!? I’m stupid and you’re smart!”
The woman looked concerned. “I’m sorry?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a fake gun. I put the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger. The woman screamed as I fell to the floor.
“NOW who is the idiot?” I thought. The gun was a fake gun!
But then I realized it was a real gun. The fake gun was still at my house.
In the hospital, the doctor said that miraculously, the bullet had only managed to ruin a small part of my brain. Luckily, it was the part responsible for filtering reckless observations about belts.
“I like your belt,” I said to the doctor. “It’s just like a belt I used to own.”
He nodded and left. The world was filled with belts just begging to be compared to past belts and possibly even some things that looked like belts. “Like rope and snakes,” I thought. “Maybe even taffy if there’s enough of it to stretch.”
I smiled and allowed my head to sink down into the pillow. Today I would rest.