The moment the cowboy bursts into the saloon, doors swinging wide, conversations splitting into silence, it’s already over. His pistol dangles low and loose by his thigh, his beaten hat hanging over his creased, dust-dirtied face. His eyes don’t narrow, because that would be impossible: they’re already two fine slits in granite, rejecting any notion of a better world. He steps forward to survey the scene, his boots tapping the floor all dangerous and ready. (“
#12: On Character Creation
#12: On Character Creation
#12: On Character Creation
The moment the cowboy bursts into the saloon, doors swinging wide, conversations splitting into silence, it’s already over. His pistol dangles low and loose by his thigh, his beaten hat hanging over his creased, dust-dirtied face. His eyes don’t narrow, because that would be impossible: they’re already two fine slits in granite, rejecting any notion of a better world. He steps forward to survey the scene, his boots tapping the floor all dangerous and ready. (“