In A Moment

I have about three milliseconds to fix things. Well, in real time, anyway. I managed to extend that by squeezing time out of other moments and into this one. You know that feeling when something seems to be happening faster than you want? It's because your excited mind is compressing the event, and that extra time leaks into other moments, like when you're waiting for something you want. If you're clever, you can learn to redirect it.

Two bullets, one heading for her heart, one for her head. I haven't got a lot of options. The first I'm pushing to the side. It's burning my hands, and takes a lot of strength and spare time. It will miss. Just.

One bullet left. I haven't got enough spare time to move it out of the way. She won't understand how it happened but later, in shock, she will tell the story in fragments, voice filled with awe. The gunman is already making a run for it, dashing between discarded items, apparently frozen; a statue in amidst the flakes of the disturbed snow globe of his victim's life.

Nothing for it now, so I step in front of the bullet in time to rest my forehead upon it's tip as I feel reality flood back into the room, and my skin begin to part. She gasps as my blood and my body hit her, throwing her to the ground. In my last moment I manage to pull a vague smile as she screams.

I'll admit, this isn't how I envisaged the walk to work when I woke up.