'What the hell is he doing?'
Harry and the old dude tumbled away from the road, surviving a collision with the truck. But the hard surface of the road turned out to be a provider of pain as much if not more.
The old dude pulled back, unable to catch his breath. He looked around frightfully.
Blood covered one side of the old man's head, running down behind the ear. Wiping his itchy nose, he looked to his own hand. The skin of his hand turned red from friction and had been torn up resulting in bleeding.
'Luckily, I am not dead.' the old dude thought. He looked at Harry.
Blood continues to pour from his hand too. He continues to cough up dust that enters his lungs along with saliva.
The truck had passed, leaving nothing but dust and the
distant rumble of tire wheels.
'I am really dizzy...'
Harry wondered if he was insane. He didn't need to save the old dude.
'I might've died. I must stop my good guy acting.'
