Diary of Self-Destruction part 01

He picks up the gun. Heavy, cold, dead, in his hand. He takes the bullet, looks at it, a shining cylinder, sharpened to a blunt, emotionless point. Glinting slightly in the dim light the bullet is loaded into the gun. He grasps it with both hands and slowly lifts it, putting the barrel into his mouth. He looks with a blank stare into space. With the gun, cold and hard between his teeth, he blinks, tightens the grip on the rough handle, and closes his eyes. Then slowly, steadily pulls the trigger.