Murder

(One of my submissions to the Boise Weekly Fiction 101 contest, 2008.)

“If the Devil knocks twice, don’t answer.”

“Twice? Why twice? What if he only knocks once?” she said, pulling laces tight.

“Knocks once to view the body, twice to gather the soul,” he said.

She shouldered her purse, stuffing in bills, “You’re a mess.”

“Only on Sundays, when I’m happy.”

She walked to the door and he leaned back. The steel pulled slow from beneath the cushion. It felt alien in his hand, cancerous. He thumbed the hammer; listened to the click. “Devil likes gathering on Sundays and he’s knocked once already. We gotta prepare your soul before he knocks again.”