They opened their marriage gifts.
‘What’s this ?’ she said.
‘Chekhov’s gun’ he said. ‘Hang it on the wall, in case we need it.’
Seven years passed. Times were good.
‘That gun’ she said. ‘I think it’s filled with blanks.’
They grew old. Times were hard.
‘I can’t stand it anymore’ he said – closed his eyes, put the gun to his head.
The doorbell rang. ‘It’s Chekhov’ she said.
‘Here Chekhov - take your damned gun’ he said. ‘It’s been nothing but trouble.’
‘My hero’ she said.
‘A happy ending’ he said.
Chekhov stood outside, pulled the trigger.
#FLASHFICTION101 January 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY
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