There was never any guess what was supposed to happen when I left the store. It was well planned out long before this moment. Yet, the execution was off. That is why the man standing behind me got the bullet that was meant for me. Just one more instance of a person being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The second shot was not planned. I could hear the sonic boom of the round missing my head by inches. This round too found an unplanned for target. The mannequin in the store window had its head explode into a cloud of dust. My pulse rate climbed with each shot. Sweat began to cloud my vision as the stinging liquid found my eyes. A quick and fevered look to find the person who is so intent on ending my life. Most people were scattering in every direction. Some fell to the ground where they stood too frightened to move. Out of the corner of my eye I see an arm rising toward me and I throw myself to the left in a roll and jumped back into the store. The next round passed through the space I just vacated. I try hiding behind a chair. Another round slams into the chair that I am hiding behind. It rips through the fabric. Tiny specs of molten polyester sting my cheeks and eyes, the round passing that close to my face. I crawl along the floor looking for a better place to hide. A quick look reveals that my antagonist is angry, frustrated and marching toward me. He ejects the clip from his firearm and slams a new magazine into the handle. He actions the slide and a new round chambers. A new attack as he rushes forward. Half standing half crawling I move toward the exit. I hit the door running. I slam into the door but it does not give. Someone has the door locked against fire code rules. I turn to see a man standing in the doorway of the store. He begins to walk closer to me. His arm begins to rise. I see the nickel plated gun in his hand. I can’t run left or right. I am trapped by this madman. Ten feet from me. His mouth begins to form a smile. He slows. The gun is now pressed to my forehead. I look into his eyes. Mere slits show only the black of his pupils. “Why” I stammer. He smiles broadly. “Asshole” he whispers. I don’t hear the click of the hammer. Nor do I hear the roar or see the flash. I am dead before I hit the floor. My brain matter splattered against the unyielding exit. Above my body I float waiting for… what? My next incarnation of life? A band of angels coming to get me? Perhaps a light at the end of the tunnel? I don’t know. All I can think of is, “what did my twin brother do now?”