Every corner of Sherly's once–peaceful place of business was torn open with bullet holes. Flowers that once perfumed the air were trampled under boots, their petals mingled with broken glass.
Kalisa crouched behind the counter, her lungs burning with dust and gunpowder. She had just fired two rounds into the silhouette of a man trying to climb through the window, and the thud of his body against the pavement outside was still echoing in her ears.
Beside her, Justin cowered, his hands covering his head as bullets zipped through the air. His voice cracked with desperation.
"Kalisa! For God's sake, give me something! I can't just sit here while they kill us!"
"Oh! Now you are worried about us because you want to live!" Kalisa shouted back.
"Please, Kalisa," Justin replied.
