Revelation snaps his eyes open, shocks him solid. It clicks. The click is enormous, bigger than such a sound can be, huge and sure. It’s the slam-bang of a pistol’s slide action at three thousand frames a second.
The paper’s still in his hands. It doesn’t seem heavier, though it should. His eyes fasten on a meaningless typo: YOURE IMPORTANT TO US in fixed-width font.
My fault, thinks Corey.
All along. Such pride. I thought I was stopping it.
In the slow motion of his imaginary gunshot, the shells are hitting the floor. Their sound is resonant: the tinkle of brass.