Standing on the gallery’s second floor landing, Roger tapped his fingers impatiently on the metal railing, his eyes trained at the entrance. Out of nowhere came a tap on his shoulder. He drew his gun from the holster. His partner, Stephanie, stumbled a step back, “Whoa, expecting somebody?”

Roger shoved the gun back in the holster. “What are you doing here?” He said coldly. She scoffed and looked away, unable to explain. “Go home. I don’t need your help.”

“Nah uh, you need my help and you know it.” Stephanie said as a gunshot sounded below.

(96 words)

Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.