There was no time for Fernando Garcia to reach for the wound or cry out in pain. A single bullet had entered his skull cleanly between his thick dark eyebrows; right on target. He had fallen, straight backed, like a giant tree felled. He hit the sunbaked asphalt, never hearing the echo from the Remington 870 that clapped through his neighbourhood.
Now, shade creeps over his corpse, marking the time, his watch ticking, toward the moment when his wife will scream on her knees at the news of his death.
Officer Rodriguez had watched his mark, stock pressed tight into his shoulder. A phone had chirped. Garcia had reached to grab his……….The jury will decide.
After the coroner removes the body, a chalk outline, a child’s drawing of a father, will remain in the parking lot for over a month, until fat drops of rain break the summer drought.
Short listed by David Gaffney 2018 Bath Flash Fiction Award