Diary Primeshots 'link' Direct

The primers are gone. Not the ones in the gun—those I keep polished, a ritual for my sanity. I mean the ones in my head. The first shots.

If you're reading this, I finally pulled the trigger. Not on myself. On the ghost. diary primeshots

The pages are smudged with gun oil and sweat. Tomorrow, I'll load one live round. Not to fire. Just to know the difference between a primer that sparks and a heart that still can. The primers are gone