This is in response to Shadowlight's prompt ...

A Hasty Retreat

To put the lie to that ancient maxim "always second guess a first impulse," let me relate a personal anecdote. I had occasion in my youth to visit the wife of the sheriff of Medicine Hat in Alberta. Her husband spent a great deal of time away from home ... chasing outlaws presumably. His wife was a neglected and lonely woman of surpassing beauty. It was my pleasure to fill the void, so to speak – although it was foolhardy, for the sheriff was an excellent shot.

One particularly warm and starry night in August, Sheila, (the wife in question) and I sat on her porch swing gazing at the heavens and taking sips in turn from her husband's home brewed bourbon. As we swung idly, gazing at the night stars, we tried as best we could to choose the one among them we chose to call our 'wishing star'. It would be our lucky star and one that would bring the two of us together when her husband met the rustler, Black Bart a far quicker man on the draw than he.

Our tryst was rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of Sheila's husband on the stepping stones that passed for a walkway to their front porch. I realized immediately that my presence would be difficult to explain. Gathering my scattered clothing together as quickly as I could I kissed the lady goodnight and beat a hasty retreat. There would be no turning back that evening.

Had I paused to second guess my first impulse to take my leave, I'm sure I would not be alive to tell my story.