She pointed the revolver at the sign and shot at it. The blue laser silently expelled from the gun, barely hitting the edge with a slight clink. Dissatisfied, she began to look around for another thing to shoot.
A lowered utility pole lay further down from the street, around 20 yards; she lifted her pistol again and aimed for it; she fired once and missed hitting a tree nearby; she shot again and missed; it disappeared somewhere in the sky; The last time she aimed, she finally hit it. But instead of feeling content, LaMesha felt a sense of incompetence for missing such an easy target—she put her hands on her hips.
“Ok, one last time,” LaMesha said.
Her eyes shifted and scanned the area to find anything—many misplaced items were on the street: Upside-down cars, tree roots from buildings, and rusted metals—but none seemed like an attractive target. She then squinted. Something scurried by: a rodent with three eyes. Disturbed by its imperfection, her face scrunched up as she watched it sit.
