I was walking home from work on a crisp autumn evening. The sun has set casting a glow over the quiet neighborhood streets. I turned to the corner of my street when I noticed a figure slumped against a tree.
At first, I thought it was just someone sitting down, but as I got closer...
Oh my God. He's been shot. There's blood everywhere. I can see the wounds on his shirt.
I stood frozen, unsure of what to do. A part of me wanted to run away, another part wanted to help him.
I slowly approached him. He looked up at me, and for a moment, our eyes locked.
"Please..." He whispers, his voice barely audible. "Call... 911..."
I quickly brought out my phone and started to dial the number, with my shaking hands.
As I waited for the police to come, I looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby. But the street was empty.
The stranger's eyes started to close, and I started to panic.
"No, no, no... Stay with me!" I begged him.
Suddenly I hear sirens in the distance. The police were coming.
But as I looked down at the stranger, I realized he was not breathing anymore.
