His hand moves toward his pocket. My brain registers the
motion and sends me hurtling to the dusty ground before I even have time to
breathe. I look up at him. He looks no different than the hundreds of men I see
on the street every day. I wonder if he has a wife and children. Not for long. Soon
they will just be a widow and orphans. I think of my own wife, my own kids.
Our eye meet. Mine and his.
The only thing more frightening than death itself is a man
who is not afraid to die.
the last sentence is killer.
ReplyDeleteI agree, that last sentence is amazing... And so true..
ReplyDeleteI really like this piece... It is really really good.
this is very well paced; each sentence drives the next one forward. and the last line is perfect. leaves me wanting more.
ReplyDelete