Mortar

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There he was, walking down the alley. I saw him. The way his jeans rode passed his hips, his gold chains bounced, and his blonde hair shifted in the wind. I knew him only as a stranger and judged him as a low life. He was nothing to this city, just another cold hearted boy.

I saw him. He was in my school, walking down my hall like he owned it. There he was in front of me, jeans and all. He looked almost sober. His green eyes were emeralds. His lips turned down into an almost frown. His body tensed.

There he was again, in my homeroom. Slouching down, head bent low, green eyes lowered to the floor; slight movement causes them to look up. His lips twitch in a smirk, embarrassment creeps up to my pale face.
He caught me, again. I look down, and then look back. He was still there smirking.
He was there by the door, green eyes looking at me. When I drew close, his voice came to my ears.
I saw him walking down the sidewalk, the evening sun behind him blazing. He looked almost angelic. His jeans slightly crooked, jewelry gleaming, green eyes dancing, and lips smirking.
No sign of him. No green eyes and no gold chains. He’s disappeared into thin air.
I walked his alley, to catch a glance.
I saw him fleeing. I saw the other man and with a mortar. I saw his target.
My world was crashing. I heard the fire. I heard his scream.
The man, he ran, with his baggy black jeans, cold blue eyes, and shaggy black hair twisting in the wind.
I saw him, lying on the ground. His blood gathered around. His green eyes are wide open, his mouth twitched. I heard his voice. I bend down. His voice is low, but I heard him say. I’ll be your guardian angel.
I saw him, pale and lifeless. No more emerald eyes. No more breathing. I heard the sirens and I cried.
I saw myself in the window of the dreary cramped office, the golden hair, pink lips, blue eyes dull.
I saw the police. Navy uniforms, shining badges, long faces, dull eyes, all the same with that cold aura that surrounds them.
I saw them. The people they brought in. I heard them ask. I pointed and drew away.
I saw the detective, how he sauntered over. His brown eyes perceiving, his tan aglow, he was different. I heard him tell me about the boy.
I saw him, in my mind. I saw him talking to his gang boss, I saw his lowered eyes. Then I saw the bosses rage.
I saw it.
I was walking down the tar paved road with a blacken sky.
I saw him with an angelic glow, smiling broad white teeth, and golden hair.
He had an air about him, a shimmer.
I saw him reach for me.
I saw myself take his hand.
I see myself in a reflection of water.
I am shimmering.
I am gone.
I didn’t see the other man with the mortar





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