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Summary
After the third beer, Mickey was forced to lean against the counter, allowing it to support his weight as his mind spiraled entirely out of control and his breathing became increasingly shallow.
His chest ached like it had been stomped on, and his hands shook like maracas, forcing him to try lightening a cigarette nearly four times before he succeeded.
Mickey had cleared half of it in one drag, before violently yanking open one of the kitchen drawers and getting his hand on the loaded .22 within.
Terry Milkovich was fucking dead.Series
- Part 13 of Husbands and Shit