Hunting Season

I got lost in coincidence, that appeared to be fate. Or whatever other devices people use to explain a thing that happened with no reason, but just seemed right. I didn't intend to be deceived. I'm not sure that was the intention, though it certainly seemed to be the end result. I'm not a good gun dog. I run when I'm spooked. And that could leave you trampled. Or Shot. Even if by accident. It's harder to count the casualties when you are one. I'm not sure that death by vernacular seduction is as painful as it is poignant. There's no warning shot. Just a split second where you realized you read your fortune cookie wrong.