"Good night Fiona." The gun is still on the kitchen table, and he pushes it toward me. He knows that I'll be sleeping with it. "If you get into a situation, remember you have trauma. Your instinct will tell you to do too much or too little. Both are bad. Use your head, not this." He points to his heart.
I nod. I know what he means. I've got a slogan for it. "Fuck feelings, trust reason," I say."
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