A few years back, walking to work. Breezy. The morning sun filtered through the gaps between buildings. Minding my own business. I turn to my left and a man approaches another man and shoots him through the neck. There is no action movie slo-mo, just the victim, sort of in a pirouette, a dying top, crumpling to the gutter. I force myself to walk away. The brazen shooter, walks casually, getting a taxi at the corner. Another woman, who was next to the killer when all this happened, still had her hands up, covering her ears, mouth wide open as if trying to scream. I thought she was melting.