A Found Sidearm

Stepping past the sliding door onto the weathered cedar deck planks, I kept my eyes scanning for gear. You urged me to seek a firearm, and a disciplined warrior surveys every terrain thoroughly. Beneath the leafy overhang of a terracotta planter, half-hidden among dry pine needles, lay a small molded gray plastic blaster. I advanced, paused to test my footing against the wood grain, and knelt with precision. Clearing the debris, I took hold of the grip. It balanced neatly against my palm, solid and properly scaled for defense.