Tonight I have the intense desire to wield a pump-action shotgun. Not that I have any violent intentions toward anyone. I just want to feel the heft of the gun, to snug the stock into my shoulder. I want to hear the roar of the first shot break the silence of the rain-soaked woodland, and feel the acrid smell of powder burning in my nostrils. I want to pump out the spent shell as I leap to my feet and break from my place of concealment, slamming the next round into the chamber with the upstroke as I charge up the hill into action.
I probably shouldn’t share things like that.