My moment of destiny had come. I felt the spark of ignition, smelled the sulfur and saltpeter mixture that would send me forth to wreak havoc in the world of men. I had no regrets. I was simply on my way to fulfill the purpose that man had made me for. As I sped forward, however, I saw nothing but a small child, about seven years of age. He looked as if he had just come from lunch. In his left hand he carried a metal, blue and red transformers lunchbox, and he had a milk mustache covering his upper lip. I thought to myself… ‘What a shame, what has mankind evolved into that someone would stoop so low as to commit such an act?’ In a heartbeat, I made up my mind. I would do this child no harm. He looked at me, blue eyes wide with fear. I paused in my split-second flight, clinking on the floor once, twice, thrice, and coming to a standstill. The lunchbox clattered to the floor, and the child was off and running before I was finished rolling. I watched the deranged would-be killer stand and look, dumbfounded, at his gun. I wanted to shout out to him. I don’t hurt children, I would say. I don’t needlessly cut lives short before they are meant to be, I would tell him. If only bullets could talk.