THE DAY
TIME
STOPPED
MOVING
By BRADNER BUCKNER
Dave Miller would neverhave done it, had he beenin his right mind. The Millerswere not a melancholy stock,hardly the sort of people youexpect to read about in the morningpaper who have taken theirlives the night before. But DaveMiller was drunk—abominably,roaringly so—and the barrel ofthe big revolver, as he stoodagainst the sink, made a ring ofcoldness against his right temple.
Dawn was beginning to stainthe frosty kitchen windows. Inthe faint light, the letter lay agray square against the drain-boardtiles. With the melodramaticgesture of the very drunk,Miller had scrawled across theenvelope:
"This is why I did it!"
He had found Helen's letterin the envelope when he staggeredinto their bedroom fifteenminutes ago—at a quarter afterfive. As had frequently happenedduring the past year, he'd comehome from the store a little late... about twelve hours late, infact. And this time Helen haddone what she had long threatenedto do. She had left him.
The letter was brief, containinga world of heartbreak andbroken hopes.
"I don't mind having toscrimp, Dave. No woman mindsthat if she feels she is reallyhelping her husband over arough spot. When business wentbad a year ago, I told you I wasready to help in any way I could.But you haven't let me. You quitfighting when things got difficult,and put in all your money andenergy on liquor and horses andcards. I could stand being marriedto a drunkard, Dave, butnot to a coward ..."
So she was trying to showhim. But Miller told himself he'dshow her instead. Coward, eh?Maybe this would teach her alesson! Hell of a lot of help she'dbeen! Nag at him every timehe took a drink. Holler bloodymurder when he put twenty-fivebucks on a horse, with achance to make five hundred.What man wouldn't do thosethings?
His drug store was on theskids. Could he be blamed fordrinking a little too much, ifalcohol dissolved the morbidvapors of his mind?
Miller stiffened angrily, andtightened his finger on the trigger.But he had one moment offrank insight just before thehammer dropped and broughtthe world tumbling about hisears. It brought with it a realizationthat the whole thing was hisfault. Helen was right—he wasa coward. There was a poignantache in his heart. She'd been asloyal as they came, he knewthat.
He could have spent his nightsthinking up new business tricks,instead of swilling whiskey.Could have gone out of his wayto be pleasant to customers, notsnap at them when he had a terrifichangover. And even Millerknew nobody ever made any moneyon the horses—at least, notwhen he needed it. But horsesand whiskey and business hadbecome tragically confused in hismind; so here he was, full ofliquor and madness, with a gunto his head.
Then again anger swept hismind clean of reason, and hethrew his chin up and grippedthe gun tight.
"Run out on me, will she!" hemuttered thickly. "Well—this'llshow her!"
In the next moment the hammerfell ... and Dave Miller had"shown her."
Miller opened his eyes with astart. As plain as black on white,he'd heard a bell ring—the mostfamiliar sound in the world, t