Before the shots were fired, I screamed. Before I screamed, I saw the gun. Before the gun, I was peeking through the window. Before the window, I heard hits landing and pitiful yelps. Before the yelps, I heard arguing for the second time today, sixth time this week, eighteen times this month. Before this month, I was counting my savings, praying I could leave this misery pit before something scarring, inescapable, inevitable, unforgettable happens. Now, there's pleading morphing into begging. Now, there's running. Now, I'm hoping the bullets didn't ricochet. Now, my family is crying because I didn't do enough.
Danielle Ellis is a Quad Cities writer, a reader for The Colored Lens and Still Here Magazine, and editor for InterrobangLit. Bluesky: @daniellefellis.bsky.social “Enough” is the Editor’s Pick for our FIVE-MINUTE NOIR contest, part of our 2026 Micromemoir Marathon.