Thin Layers

He doesn't see, he hears: bee, butterfly, some fluttering thing that stings. He remembers that butterflies don't sting.

He looks from shopkeeper to gunman, then down at his chest where his heart should be. But that hasn't been whole or healthy for a long time, so
maybe it isn't his blood seeping past thin layers of clothes and muscle.

blink
glint of a ring
and breathe
a baby soft smell
throat tight
taste of a shank
body cold
red stretched over skin

the world tilts  Holly  the city is silent  Harry  and finally the store is empty  Chris

He smiles.

~~