Pizza Day
In the bustling cafeteria, the smell of pizza and the murmur of gossip hung thick in the air. A sharp crack shattered the hum, and students froze. Eyes locked on the shooter, every breath hitched.
"Everyone, get down!"
I saw the girl, the one who'd been hit, in a pool of blood. What a pretty color, I thought, as tears ran down my bloated cheeks, my mouth still full with stale Detroit-style pepperoni pizza. The intruder's footsteps paced over the dirty linoleum and my pulse kept time with his steps, as if my heart wanted to appease him.
Closer, closer. Stop One heartbeat, two. Stop. Click. Stop, stop--
"Stop!"
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Comments (1)
"What a pretty colour" - such a good way to encapsulate how a mind can fixate on odd details in moments of crisis 😁 Did you mean "cheeks"?