22.

I'm drunk and the fellow with the gun is heading right towards me. Any anger I just had at his judgmental compatriot has withered. I feel fear and anxiety barreling in from all sides. He's jogging towards me now as if I signify the finish line to his grand caper. As shitty as things have been for me, I'd rather not die. At least I think I'm past all that. Maybe? Maybe it'd be easier. I don't know. He's nearly a yard away and I feel the back of my shirt cling to me with sweat. Our eyes meet and I contemplate pissing myself. I'd rather not get shot. I close my eyes and picture tiny chunks of metal ripping through my chest, my insides spilling out, littering the parking lot. I hope I don't get fined. "Sorry officer, I'll pick up my intestines and put them in the nearest trash reciprocal". Seconds pass and I'm not dead. My eyes snap open and he's getting in the passenger seat. He slams the door and the car quickly reverses then speeds off. I think I'm glad. And just this morning I was thinking that I was back to a life of normalcy. I do my civic duty and head into the convenience store to check on the robot clerk. I step in and I can't see him behind the counter. My heart starts to pound and I really don't want to do this anymore. I'm scared and nervous. If I peer behind that counter and he's laying there, dead and cold, his robot oily fluids pouring out, I'm going to throw up all over the place. I try to rationalize why I need to be here. I mean, someone must have heard the shots and called the cops. I really shouldn't be hanging around here, waiting to get questioned by cops for hours on end. They’d run my name and I’d be fucked instantly. I feel wobbly and now I'm starting to think the malt liquor hurt more than it helped. I let out a nasty burp that tastes like air freshener and kerosene. I've been stalemated by my own fear. And as much as I feel like it's the right thing to do, I don't. Instead I give into my pathetic sorry needs and I go over to the fridge and grab another can of gross orange shit. I speak aloud for only a moment, apologizing to the robot clerk that I wish there was something I could do but it looks like God simply over looked him.