He’s showering after a traumatic day. His father was shot in a bakery. It was a robbery. Dad tried to be a hero. He drove his dad to the hospital. Ambulance was taking forever. The doctors said his dad will need surgery and that it would be a few hours before he’d be allowed to see his dad. His girlfriend suggested he go home and change out of his blood stained clothes. She went home with him. He got into the shower. That’s where he is now, wondering why today happened. The temperature of the water is just perfect, but his life was far from perfect even before his dad was shot, and now his life is so far from perfection that perfection seems like a dot from where he’s standing.
He hears the bathroom door open. Looks like his girlfriend is about the join him. It feels wrong that he’s about to get intimate with his girlfriend while his dad is at the hospital. But what else can he do? It’s in the doctors’ hands now. Or God’s if you ask his grandmother. The glass shower door is foggy so he can’t see her yet. He waits for her to slide open the shower door and join him. But then he hears a sound that he already heard earlier that day – a gunshot. And then he feels what his father felt earlier that day – the feeling of a bullet inside him. He falls, blood mixing with water.
The shower door slides open and a masked man looks down on him and says, “Like father, like son.”