Glassware and Gunfire

Don pulled to the front of the gas station, put his bronco in gear and turned off the ignition. He needed to get some tobacco and an energy drink to restore himself. Swinging his legs out the door he slid off the seat as the sound of screaming tires rounded the corner.

Stepping away from the truck his eyes caught the dirty white Optima approaching. “You’ve got to be kidding!” he thought, throwing up both hands and yelling, “What now?”

Never in his wildest dreams did he expect the hot stream of bullets that peppered him. Never did he expect the hammering in his chest and stomach that threw him backward. No way had it gotten that out of control.

As the car sped away Don lay face down on the concrete bleeding out, and as the world went dark, he wondered if anyone would ever know why.