As he pulls the body of the hatless man the final few steps to safety he waits to feel some sort of pain, waits to feel the wetness of bleeding. It doesn’t come. He sits down on the ground, breathing hard, sweating. He looks across the street and sees the cameraman staring at him, his mouth open. His camera is in his hands, but not on his shoulder. It hasn’t captured him, or the body of the hatless man. Good, he thinks. I will not live in a city where dead bodies lie abandoned in the streets, and you will not tell the world I do.
