The Girl of My Dreams
DONALD E. WESTLAKE
Yesterday I bought a gun.
I’m very confused; I don’t know what to do.
I have always been a mild and shy young man, quiet and conservative and polite. I have been employed the last five years—since at 19 I left college because of lack of funds—at the shirt counter of Willis & DeKalb, Men’s Clothiers, Stores in Principal Cities, and I would say that I have been generally content with my lot. Although recently I have been finding the new manager, Mr. Miller, somewhat abrasive—not to overstate the matter—the work itself has always been agreeable, and I have continued to look forward to a quiet lifetime in the same employment.
. . .