Maybe Dad was planning on using it to fend off the police when he realized they were coming for him. All I know is they took him off to jail before he could lock it back up in its case. I only came up to the walk-in closet because I like to go in and sit there for a couple of hours at a time when I get nervous and I’m not sure why. As soon as I walked in I saw the padlock released and dangling from the latch of the box. I lifted the lid and there was the handgun, resting out of place as if he had taken it from the box but dropped it back in. Maybe the police got into the room before he was able to load it.

I check and it’s loaded. Who knows? Maybe he changed his mind and came out with his hands up.

Mom is at the police station and she said she'll wait there all night. She didn't make any plans for my supervision. I’m eleven now, but this is the first time that I’ve been left to spend the entire night in the house completely alone. I take the handgun from its case. I’m going up to the roof to shoot the man in the moon.

This might be the only chance I'll have to use his handgun. When he gets back, he's sure to lock it up again. And since I was seven I've been dying to find out what the man in the moon will do if he gets hurt. I always thought I'd have to wait for a space shuttle to crash into it. But maybe not.

I climb out on the roof late tonight, aim the gun at his splotchy gray face, and fire once. Then I wait a while. It can take a long time for a bullet to travel that far into space. Maybe even all night long. I just lie on the roof and watch the moon for an expression of sharp pain or anguish. Or maybe just a small twitch. I don't see any change. Either I missed, or the bullet didn't get there in time to beat the sunrise. I’ll shoot again tomorrow night, but earlier. As long as I make sure to only shoot one time every night. Or else the police will come and get me just like they got Dad.