He started to slide it back into the gun, and then took it out again.

Being sorry has never yet put a bullet back into the gun that fired it.

I slid the magazine into the gun and slapped it home with my palm.

My face was pressed into the bars and the gun.

He hadn't known what kind of round he had fed into the gun.

As if to show it, he rammed the magazine back into the gun.

The chain of bullets ripped its way up into the gun and finished.

The range was close and he was looking straight into the gun.

I passed him the two shells I had, and he put them into the gun.

I wonder, if sometime in the future you're going to wish you could make the bullet go back into the gun.