The recoil barely shook a tremble through his arm as a second hole appeared in the man’s chest. The cry echoed in the room but still he remained sea...ed in the chair. The bottle toppled from its table and tumbled onto the worn carpet, spilling whiskey into the pool of blood. ‘Please,’ the man whispered, his voice scraping against the insides of his throat. ‘Please, Brian.’ Brian stood close enough to smell the man’s sour odor. The staleness of wasted years. His eyes had lost any indignation they. At the time I was a junior at Millard North High School in Omaha, NE. I had moved up there with my parents as a freshman and being that it’s Omaha and I was moving from Kansas City, a large and fun city by comparison, I hated it. It took me most of my sophomore year and an encounter with the police to calm down my teenage outrage at being taken from my home and friends.But more then anything else what pulled me through that time of youthful angst was the chance meeting I had that led to my. More

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