The Room

There was a stillness in the room. It was the same kind of stillness noticed when a pin is dropped and echoing too loudly; or the same kind of stillness when a gentle breeze feels like a tornado.

Everyone was staring at the man with the red mustache even though they did not want to. His screams were vibrations attracting the eyes, his movements flickers of threats. No one could take their eyes off him, even though he kept shouting for everyone to look away.

It was the gun in his hand that made them all nervous, the fact that he was clearly not right shouting obscenities and waving.

"Don't look at me! Stop it! STOP. Close your fucking eyes."

A woman, in a green dress, cowering in the corner thought he must have been on drugs the way he was trembling so. The clerk behind the counter thought he might inch closer and be a hero, up until the gun was pointed at him and then he stopped cold in his tracks.

The room was so still. Everyone was frozen in their places, unable to look away as the red headed man, who was clearly not well, demanded their attention while cursing them for giving it to them.

The room was so still. No one knew who was going to die first, up until the shots rang out.

The room was so still. The first officer on the scene used his best judgement and fired two shots at the man the moment he had a clear shot. The first bullet struck the man high up in his right thigh. The second pierced his abdomen and lodged itself in his spine.

The red haired man's blood stained the tile floor. When the paramedics arrived they pronounced him dead and everyone was relieved it hadn't been them.

A young boy that had watched the whole thing cried and wished he could have helped. To his five year old eyes the poor man had clearly not been well.