The idea popped his mind so quickly, ’twas as if the world were spinning in slow motion as it happened, deflating like a balloon.
But though his brainwaves raced to consider the consequences o’ what was happening, his muscles were imprisoned by the same slowmo to change.
& then, like a car breaking into 2nd gear, time jumped forward: the bouquet landed in his hands, & the feeling o’ its soft, flaky petals all o’er his hands jolted him so hard that he didn’t have time to squeeze in ’nother thought before he felt the sharp pierce o’ a bullet in his chest like a bee sting, & then a melty, numb nothingness.