They say that the soul leaves the body with the last dying breath. I don’t believe in souls, but my mother and grandmother did --- one of the few things they agreed upon. I’ve seen many people die, but I’ve yet to witness the passage of a soul myself.
Perhaps I will now, with the man gasping before me, my bullet lodged in his gut.
His gaze finds me, more pleading than accusatory, both of us knowing there is nothing to be done. Then his eyes roll back, glimpsing eternity, followed by a sigh.
I hold my own breath.
Nothing.