The man crumpled to the floor in an awkward heap, his weapon spinning slowly across the linoleum floor of the store. The screams slowly died out as people realized that the danger had passed. Soon the only sounds to be heard were the sirens growing ever closer. David wiped his bloody hand, cut from the vase, on his jeans and walked slowly over to the woman. She groaned slighlty as he touched her arm. She wasn’t dead, but would be soon if the bleeding wasn’t stopped. He took of his shirt and pressed it gently to the wound. He looked around pleadingly, begging silently for help. An employee came to his aid and duct taped the man, who was still unconcious.

The paramedics burst in, stirring life back into the scene. The woman was quickly loaded onto a stretcher, David’s shirt was left laying on the floor. And for the first time in his life, David began to cry. He didn’t know why. He didn’t cry as his mother died, but this women, this complete stranger, touched him in a way he didn’t quite understand.