Threads of Regret
Dahlonega, Georgia—A Sunday morning…
Her heart was pounding as if she were the one
getting ready to walk into the small establishment with
a gun tucked underneath her belt. She brushed her hair
out of her eyes so she could see into the store more
She hadn't had a hit in two days and there was
nothing she wanted more. But they were close now. She
could feel it.
She watched as Charlie sauntered toward the door
and then stopped to lean against the building. He
attempted a casual pose while keeping his head down.
She sighed. To her, he looked as awkward as one of the
skinny-legged cranes she saw frequently p icking their
way along the shallows at the lake. She was still
watching a moment later, when a customer came out
carrying a newspaper and a gallon of milk and walked
right by him. She saw Charlie slip inside the store
without even touching the door before it closed all the
She took a deep breath and started to count to thirty
the way he instructed her earlier. One Mississippi, two
Mississippi, three Mississippi…."
When she reached thirty Mississippi, she smiled
anxiously to herself, started the car and put it into
reverse as she began to back out.
The blast of a horn blowing startled her causing her
to stomp on the brakes. The momentum jerked her