King and Gandhi trudged across the mall in DC. January sleet muddied the streets. Instead of shadows, their spirits cast glowing light over the dark pockets between street lamps.
“You scare me.” An NRA tough pulled out a gun.
King stopped. “That’s because you don’t know me.”
The tough cocked the gun. “I don’t need to. I’m standing my ground.”
Gandhi said, “Let us talk, son.”
“This does the talking for me.” NRA fired.
The bullet spun between the three men, caught in a mighty vortex. King said, “Nothing is more powerful than non-violence. Now put the gun away.”