Hourglass

He ran. An not just ran. He could hear his voice echoing down the streets of this small city, and try as he might, he couldn't make himself stop. He heard a bullet ricochet off the dumpster to his right, the sound of glass shattering bouncing off the bricked walls around him. He needed to get the hell out of this alley--preferably with his heart still pumping.

As he narrowly made his escape, and darted left onto the street in front of him, he realized his voice had ceased, and the street was at least a tiny bit more crowded than the alley. But he knew public witnesses wouldn't stop the man behind him. He knew his best friend, afterall. Nothing short of the dramatics.

His vision snapped him back into reality. David stood there, brown eyes locked into his own. "You stabbed me in the back, Sam."

He looked around. Everyone was staring at them. He really did hate for private matters to become public. But then again, this was David Reece. Nothing was ever kept private with him. Not the victimized stuff, anyway. Oh, there was plenty David kept hidden from the public eye. But any chance for him to be the victim? No, David ate that up.

"I'm pretty sure that's not the way it happened," he replied, eying the VodkaCran in his friend's hand. "And if you would have even tried to be reasonable and listten? You would have known that."

"I don't want to listen!"

David's voice lingered for a moment. Sam sunk that in, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're so quick to assume everyone has it out for you, Dave." He chuckled in near disbelief. "Who hasn't been on your bad side? Your best friend? Your boyfriend? Your mom? Thing is, we aren't. I screwed up. I hurt you. And I'm sorry. But I wasn't out to get you. And you didn't even give me the chance to talk it out before you blew it all over the world."

He shook his head. "In some ways, I am pissed so royally because you couldn't respect me like I should have been. You came at me all accusational, and didn't allow my side to be told. And it makes me think, 'Hmm, do I really want this guy to be my friend?' But at the end of the day, you are. Because I know you better than any one of those gossip whores who no shit about any of this--or nearly anyone here, for that matter."

He stepped closer. "Point is, if you cant give me the decency to talk it out, I kind of would rather you go on hating me. Because that means after all this time, you really don't know me. And that hurts worse than the disrespect."

He threw a twenty on the bar for his tab, nodded to the bartender, and walked past his friend. The crowd incredulously remained silent as he broke through them. Someone grabbed his arm on his exit out.

"Give him time."

Sam brushed past him and continued on. The thing about time is...it's always running out.