They say it's Satan who helps a suicide. I cannot find another way to explain the easiness of the pistol emerging in my hand. I had no doubt or hesitation about what to do with it. My heart was empty and laughing. Yes, it was laughing at the problem the interrogator was going to face. His prisoner put his pistol to her head in his own office! What a gag! And I moved a safety lock.
That's all! The last glance out the window. And I saw... life. The blue sky and fluffy white clouds in it. The top of a young poplar with sticky leaves. And a couple of swallows on the telegraph wire, so merry and busy with their family concerns. Am I to die? When the sky is blue, and a poplar, and swallows? No! The safety lock was back in place and the pistol plopped onto the sofa. I saw in the glass what followed.