What would you do when faced with the man who is going to kill you?
This was it. The final straw. The last showdown. I was not going to walk away from this. Ever. The man in front of me was going to kill me and there was nothing left in the world that I could do to stop it. He wins. I lose. That is probably the hardest truth I have ever swallowed in my life. And I have been witness to some pretty hard truths.
My life could have ended anywhere. It could have been in the comfort of my childhood home. It could have been in the arms of my gorgeous wife. It probably should have been on that trip to Saigon my wife still doesn't know about. But no. It was here. Alone. With a man I had never seen in my life. Standing at the side of my car, engine idling loudly, at the side of the road where I had come to a screeching halt after my tire blew out. (The tire I should have replaced in the winter - but didn't.)
The worst part, the man that stood before me wasn't even particularly intimidating. He just looked like any other man, out for a Sunday afternoon drive. Jeans, black t-shirt, aviators, short brown hair. If I passed this guy on the street on any other day than today I wouldn't have even registered his existence. I suppose that is a good thing for a man who kills people. I just assumed that if I was ever gunned down in broad daylight it would have been by a giant, sweaty mobster looking dude. Just another disappointment I suppose.
It really is true though, standing here, facing the man that is going to kill me, time seems to have lost all meaning. I feel like I could have run about a thousand times, but at the same time I feel like no time has passed at all. All I keep looking at is the giant gun in his hand. It may be smaller than I think. I guess when you look at the weapon that is going to end your life it would look a lot bigger.