A personal history of guns in the writer’s life:

“I have no idea where that gun is now, I only know that he took it back from me and that I don’t own it, and frankly not knowing where it is also fucking terrifies me.

“If I could have taken it apart and destroyed the pieces, I would have, for reasons I didn’t even understand then; I only knew that I hated it, and something I had such a strong, immediate spiritual reaction to was not a good thing.

“I’d understand those feelings a lot more intimately after college.”