Daniel didn’t notice the gunman enter the convenience store. The thirty-three year old was busy standing in the hygiene aisle looking over the different razor blade packages. In the movies, people who committed suicide used shiny, stainless-steel razors. It appeared that Seven-Eleven no longer catered to the suicidal.

He had nothing left to live for. First, he’d lost his job. That had been the last straw for his girlfriend who had packed up, taken their daughter, and moved back in with her mom. Some would call him depressed but he knew the truth- he was worthless.

“Stop, I don’t want to kill you- I’m just here for the money!” A masked man yelled at the clerk, waving his gun around.

Immediately it struck him that this was an opportunity, as suicide invalidated insurance policies. A rotting tree would die so that a sapling could live.

Daniel moved forward.

The gunmen turned to face him, face tight, eyes wide with panic.

One last step-

The bullet’s song was the sweetest thing Daniel had ever heard.