'I shot, I pull the trigger,' the moment froze, '-the bullet's trajectory, I can visualize it, I didn't mean to shoot, it's going straight for his head, I'm scared,' *thud.*
*Clap,* "-barely,* said Igna with closed palms at his face, "-good shot, I'll say much," he winked and stormed to Jong, "-thing is, bullets are projectiles, a ball, a rock, even a human, if they're thrown, they can be stopped, and bullets are no different," he held the tip, "-here, I say refund it."
Horns and engine growls stormed the park, a motor circle gang pulled, the count increased by the second, the shock and fear of having shot at someone brought Jong to his knees. Actions and words were very different, even if one carries a gun or any weapon, the adrenaline is sure to fade, and when it fades, the seriousness of the actions veers a little smirk.
