Sheets of bank paper float on drafts of air. Wind rushes from vacant spaces where glass panes used to be. Last images of a life lost. The bank manager's eyes stare at me from where he fell on the floor. His mouth moves slightly in desperate gasps for air, he won't get. A lake of red expands across marble tiles. All of his tomorrows are gone, and so are mine.
The ringing world inside my ears starts to subside. Other sounds begin to creep in. A chorus of whimpers, a baby screaming. The soundtrack to how my world will end. I hope my mom will know, I'm sorry. How many steps would it take to see Rosa, sitting in the van, one more time before they gun me down? My hourglass is almost empty. I check my gun again.
I hear their boots on the concrete outside, a stampede of Warthogs coming to root me out. Another flash bang. Their boots crunching on glass. It's time to go home, I stand. Butch and Sundance, goddammit. My gun raises, my finger pulls back. The barrel of my gun flashes. The air erupts with their own sound. Goodbye Rosa, I love you.
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