The mozzarella was bubbling like white lava erupting from a thin crusted volcano. Michael watched it with fevered anticipation as the pretty waitress with grey eyes gracefully slid the pan onto the table. She stared at him so strongly that he quickly developed another appetite.
"Watch what you're looking at!"
Michael lowered his head, looking away from the woman and then at Maria. Her blue eyes fired shots of crystal daggers into his chest as he gulped for air. She watched as Michael squirmed uncomfortably for a moment. She never turned too look at the waitress because she didn't care about her. Can't blame her anyway.
"It's about showing respect. I don't stare at others. How would you feel if I did?" Maria answered the question that Michael was spinning in his head for the last thirty seconds. Looking into her eyes, Michael realized that she was right. He also noticed that the pizza had not been touched and was getting cold. Picking up a slice he placed it on a plate and then handed it to Maria. They smiled. One of his best attributes was silence. Not just shutting up but knowing when to be quiet and observant.
After chowing down on more than half the pie Michael unloosened his belt. He felt the safety of his pistol ride into his rear as he shifted. After four years of carrying he never got used to it.
"I have to stop by next door and deposit a check after.OK?" Maria asked but it was more of a statement.
"Whatever."
Breathing deeply, Michael leaned forward to steal another slice. Beyond Maria's Italian fro he could see a figure slipping around the corner towards the pizzeria. Another man followed. They were both neatly dressed and walking hurriedly. Backpacks hung loosely from their shoulders. Michael stared more intensely at them. They seemed to be too well dressed to be wearing backpacks.
"Stop!"
A shout ran out from around the corner of the pizzerias front door. Michael knew who that shout was for and he also knew who yelled it. The confidence, the zeal fit the bill for one type of man. And the two men knew this as well. They turned back towards the voice in a flash. With their backs to Michael he watched the steel flash from their waists. As the cop turned the corner three shots blasted out into the tranquil afternoon and disrupted any peace that was there that day. Like the marinara sauce that exploded from Michael's slice of pizza one minute earlier, two holes burst from the stunned officers body. His left arm and leg ran crimson as he crumbled to the ground.
Screams filled Michael's eardrums as Maria sank her head forward and covered her ears. Squatting out of his seat Michael grabbed Maria by the shoulder, pushing her behind him and to the ground. Instantly he looked up towards where the two men had been and saw them walking at the officer. As he tasted his lunch beginning to rise, Michael bit down hard. He seized his pistol from his waist but remained crouched. The safety had never felt so heavy as that moment. As the tiny click sounded off Michael stood up but kept his knees slightly bent. An ambiguous feeling took control of his body. Although he felt light, almost weightless, there was a heaviness to his motions that he never experienced before. Bringing his weapon up and leveling it at shoulder length, Michael stalled one second before making a decision. As he watched the men approach the officer, he was caught off guard by the cop's eyes. They were staring straight at him. He could make out the whites of his irises and the fear that was drenching his face with perspiration.
A gunshot never sounded so loud for Michael as he let his finger slide over the trigger. In rapid succession he shot off 12 rounds into both of the men before popping out the empty cartridge. With shaky fingers he sized the spare but quickly realized that there was no need. In a state of shock Michael found that he was nearly standing over both men. While he had been shooting he crossed twenty feet of space but hadn't realized it. Blood soaked up the concrete and little lakes of red liquid surrounded the islands of the two bodies. The officer was struggling with his radio but Michael could not make out what he said. There were screams and howling sirens tumbling through his world but it was all just a type of movement. Nothing but the hollow sound of the welkin existed as he stood trapped in his act of giving.