Let It Go

"You done it. I say it's done with!" Fingering warm steel, I grasped my husband's shaking hand. "You can't take it back. Let it go." He still trembled, but he'd lost some of that clamminess. Finally! "There, there," I began, but sounded a little too much like the doting wife. "Ah. You'll be fine." He sniffed and wiped his nose. "Yeah, uhm," he stammered. "It's like, uhm. Like spilled milk." I swear, I almost laughed. Spilled milk! Man, what a dolt! 'Course, I'd never say that to his face. "That's it," I agreed. He remained silent, but he'd stopped shaking. "Alright," I lifted the magnum. "When I drive over, you toss this in the river. Think you can do that?" He reached for the barrel and nodded.