I got back from work on Friday evening, treated myself to a cold shower to drain away the day's stress, and settled down to a tasty meal while wearing only underpants.
Afterwards, I slipped into a pair of black shorts, a white T-shirt, and grey sneakers. Feeling comfortable and relaxed, I started making my way, swaggeringly, towards the nearest mall to my house, where I wanted to buy some things for the weekend because I planned not to step out of the house on Saturday.
On my way out, I got into a heated argument with a friend over the phone. Emotions were heightened, and tempers flared. I lost my calm. The pitch of my voice became higher than usual. Angrily, I dropped the phone on her.
Up to this point, I was having a normal day. Nothing unusual happened.
I hadn't made it up to three steps after dropping the call when I heard "pow, pow," a sound I have come to be familiar with, even though I'm not living in a war-infested zone.
At first, I wasn't panicked, since there hasn't been much unrest in my area lately.
Instead, I tilted my head, almost immediately, in the direction of the sound. My gaze locked with that of a mean-looking young man who was on the front passenger seat of a passing bus holding a long metallic rod with a curved handle and a dragon-like opening that emitted bright sparks and a loud, sporadic sound into the air.
I needed no other warning to know that I wasn't supposed to be there, at least not in that moment. A typical case of being at the right place at the wrong time.
I don't know how I did it. It must have been a teleport because I only recalled what transpired after I "safely" locked myself in my apartment. At that moment, my room provided the best comfort on earth. It gave me an immense sense of safety.
While in the room, I sat on a chair and buried my head in my palm, scared, confused, and worried that people must have been hurt, but I remained calm and grateful.
I recalled the heated telephone conversation I had before the incident. Thinking of it now, it was nothing but a battle of ego. I remembered asking, "Who do you think you are to speak to me like that?" "Who do you think you're talking to?"
I remembered how I enunciated "me,"
making it weighty, just so I could stress my worth.
Then, I asked myself again, "Who was she really talking to?"
She was talking to me, of course, another human who is sustained by vapour, which was about to be squeezed out of his lungs a while ago.
A realization hit me: "I have some calming to do."
"Is this how people go out on a normal day, to their usual routes, only to get caught in a crossfire?" I thought to myself.
Though the answer was an obvious yes, I'll still allow the question to linger in my mind long enough to buy me time before accepting the reality that "I could've been hit by a bullet just moments ago."
