Bullets
He shouted, “No Bro, Wait!” As he could see his silhouette disappear into the dim space.
Just a street lamp to decorate the street.
Make it look like an alley.
He wanted to run into it, and feel alive.
The panic in his heart set him free, froze his body as another chilled wind made him pause.
To take it all in, and observe that pause, and capture the memory like a photograph before it faded away in the myriad of his neurons.
He had too much to think, too much to sort through, and the anxiety was not helping him at all.
Not a friend or a foe came to help him in his disruptive times.
He was there for everyone meeting people, and finding friends again after 15 long years.
But there he was all alone lonely when they put bullets into his heart.