Holster

Moses loved his cowboy boots, the crocodile skin leather boots that were his trade make made the old floorboards squeak and squam as he moved methodically from row to row scouring shelf after shelf of old moldy books in the library left abandoned years before.

The cobwebs and mucky smell in the air only motivated him to move faster. If he knew what he was looking for it would have made his job easier. But Moses lived on the edge and anything that came that easy would bore him to tears.

Then he heard it, at fast he dismissed it as probably a stray that had made the abandoned library home but now his senses would not allow him to dismiss the bad feelings. He crouched down hiding among the books his hands hovering over his trusty holster.