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That morning, I was relaxing with my dog, drinking my morning coffee, and reading the local newspaper. The room felt a bit too dark to read the paper, so I decided to open up the curtains to let some natural light in. What I saw in my front yard staring back at me haunts me to this day. It was a dark figure, standing at what looked like six foot five.
Presumably a male, he had a gun in his hand. I immediately locked all my doors and closed the curtains and then turned on my phone to call the police. But then, I was alarmed by a text message from an unknown number. I opened the messages app and was presented with a photo of that same ♥♥♥♥♥♥ looking man.
What happened next was the breaking point, which ultimately convinced me that ♥♥♥♥♥ lives don’t matter. I heard a rattling noise coming from the room next door. I didn’t think much of it, because I have mouse problems in the apartment, and there was a peculiar absence of breathing noises. I heard loud knocking coming from the door of the room I was in. At that moment, I realized I’m in danger. I ran to lock the door, but it was too late. That same black man barged in and pointed a gun at my belly.
Do you ever get that feeling, where your next choice is what makes or breaks your right to live? I had that feeling and I knew that I had to defeat him in order to survive, so I grabbed the nearest pillow and pushed it against his face to prevent him from breathing.
“I can’t breef”, he said running out of my house, never to be seen again.
That night, I turned on the TV to listen to the local news and was shocked to see a photo of the man and the headline corresponding to it; “♥♥♥♥♥ named George Floyd robs pregnant women for fentanyl money and/or pregnant belly pics”.
Moral of the story, black lives splatter.