“When you become a cop do you think you will carry a revolver or a pistol?” I asked.
Matthew lowered the Hardy Boys book he was reading, “I’ve been thinking I want to be a private eye instead of a cop.”
We were spending the afternoon reading in Matthew’s parent’s living room. We would spend hours reading and discussing mystery books, trying to see which one of us could figure out the mystery the fastest.
“I think I want to carry a Colt .45,” he said.
My book was laying on the table in front of me. I lifted the cover and let it drop.
“But the recoil is too powerful to maintain control if you want to shoot fast, and you only get seven shots. A nine millimeter carries like, ten or fifteen rounds,” I said.
It was a muggy hot summer afternoon not worth doing anything besides reading in front of oscillating fan on the couch.
“I would just make sure I hit the target,” Matthew said. “We should go swimming.”
“I can’t. I have my paper route,” I said. “Do you want to sleep over tonight? We can get movies at the library.”
“Yeah. Let me ask my Mom.”