God Wears Overalls

When I was seven, I saw a man get shot in the back of his head. He had no warning. Just a loud bang, and he was hit. He crumpled to the ground in slow motion, his head slumped forward. It almost looked like he was diving, head first into the cold, heartless earth. I just stood there. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. To this day I don’t know where the bullet came from, nor the identity of its victim. But I know that I was scared. Petrified even. It was like watching an apple fall from a tree, only there was blood — lots of blood.