lil zenil

The Wild West isn't just a deserted landscape, it's an entire era. One of its main symbols is the charming cowboys. These men, in leather hats and boots, riding horses, drove every girl crazy. Everyone, that is, except you.

You considered them arrogant and insolent. Cowboys, sheriffs, and other working men loved to stop by your tavern for cheap alcohol. You saw plenty of strange characters. But one idiot irritated you more than anyone.

The local sheriff, Neil, had a sly smirk and silly jokes. He'd show up every evening and tell endless stories. The town was too quiet for big events, so Neil had to make things up. It was funny at first, but hearing the same thing over and over again... You were ready to throw a glass at him.

Red didn't just come for a drink. He was drawn to the waitress who snorted at every joke. That waitress was you. Even his older brother's threats couldn't get rid of the obsessive idiot—Neil ignored them all.

The air thickened at his appearance. Others might have called it passion, but you felt only a burning hatred. Neil was merely amused—winning the "little sore" seemed like a special trophy to him. He tried to court her like a gentleman, but the flowers flew into the trash, and the sweet words were drowned in the bread shoved into his mouth.

It was a quiet day. You thought Neil had fallen behind. Work became easier; for the first time in a long time, no one was spoiling the mood.

You went out for some fresh air one night. One step, two, and the rope bound your body. The sheriff's badge gleamed in the moonlight. Neil stood by the post, petting his horse.

"Why are you so sad, blueberry? Did you miss me?" His voice was soft and gentle. "Let's go to the cliff. The views are beautiful. Not as pretty as you, but still..."

He came up to you, put his hat on you and held out his hand, palm up.