Roman
I'd heard stories of one's life flashing before one's eyes when dying or facing imminent death. Hell, I'd played the scenes in Broadway shows and on the silver screen. A rapid succession of memories, much like old filmstrips that rattled in the projectors in days gone by. Some of the strip was discolored with age—those memories from long ago. Other images were bright, pristine, even vibrant—their clear appearance representing the magnitude of their meaning.
As the ground shook and a second blast of the gun reverberated over the cold, frozen countryside, I experienced what up until that moment had only been myth.
It wasn't a myth—the phenomenon was real.
My life flashed before my eyes.
Thirty-eight years in only a few seconds. One would think it would be impossible to see so
