I feel the cold. A ring of it. Pressure. Memories. Life. No…wait, no life. That’s what seems to be leaving. It was here in this dingy old gas station earlier. What happened to drain it from these stained walls, they meld with my body, worn from age. What happened? This man happened.
“Get on your knees, dammit!” I collapse. Why fight? People always talk about what they’d do. They wouldn’t do anything. What can you do? No arguing with the desperate. Looking up reveals my reflection in the glass of the giant drink fridge before me. The cartoon tigers and lizards smile into my dull brown eyes, telling me all I need to restore my energy is a sip from their colorful cans. If only I could drink one and become invincible, stand up and let the bullets strike me harmlessly. Maybe they-CRACK! -A wet feeling.
“ I SAID, ‘What’s the password?’” I’m bleeding badly…but why should I care, I’m going to die anyways. Oh, the password…
”It’s f-five three s-s-seven one..” My voice betrays my fear as it stumbles over they four numbers I’ve known for years. The cold kiss gone from my head, I can hear him open the register. I should run. At least die in the light. He’ll shoot me if I stay. The money rustles into his bag, sounding like a chorus of demons whispering his applause. Its time now, if I plan on running. Spinning around as I stand, I lurch for the door that has for years been the first and last thing I see as I wipe the stained windows twice a day. Surprising myself with my dexterity, I fling the door open and run out.

“Stop you mutha-“ WHAM! The door slams shut and I feel like I’m in a new world. I’ve made it! Turning my head to look at the man who owned my life, I lock eyes with a metal Cyclops, staring at my head. It blinks..or I blink? I blink. The flash of light is blinding as its voice calls to me. The window shatters. Glass is beautiful when broken. Often more so than when it isn’t. People can be beautiful too, often more so dead than alive. When they are free from decisions, from mistakes. I feel the bullet hit me. Maybe now I’ll be beautiful too.

Obituary January 13, 2007
James A. McCauly, 5’3”, Hazel eyes, Blond hair, fair skin. Loved dearly by his mother. Will be missed by his sister. Funeral to be held Jan. 17. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Hazelfield Orphanage.