The stapler hit the gun just as Dave pulled the trigger. It fired, taking off his right ear, and spattered blood against the taupe wall behind him. He groaned, slumped over onto his left side, and raised a pale, freckled arm to cover his face. “Don’t shoot, please.” he rasped, his stubby fingers clutching at nothing, “Please…”

The nearest officer flipped him onto his stomach, slid the cuffs around his slick wrists. “Oh, we won’t kill you, buddy.” he hissed, “Naw, you get to come stay with us for a while.” Dave nodded, his thinning sandy hair matted with blood. Another officer moved to discreetly hurl behind a cubicle. “God, I will never understand you sickos.” The cop shook his head violently, hauling Dave to his feet.

They marched him to the stairwell, yanked open the door. Dave whimpered as they shoved him onto the landing. An officer behind him muttered something, and Dave’s tears started pouring anew.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he bawled, “I didn’t know it was take your kid to work day.”