When your body is in crisis, time slows. Sam remembers hearing once that this phenomenon actually occurs because the brain takes more snapshots during a crisis, clicking like a camera, gathering information, anything that might be useful, anything to save itself. Sam hurls his body at Harold. Click. Shoulder low, he folds Harold in half. Click, click. The two men crumple to the ground with a groan, and it doesn’t feel cool, like an action movie, it feels like two middle-aged men with bad knees playing grab ass.
