A long, winding highway. White line on the black road. Brown hues all around, undulating earth and evening Sun.
A car darts into the scene from the left. Something does not look right.
The scene shifts to the right, as if someone is looking to the right from the back seat of the car.
A man in black coat is running parallel to the car.
The car driver looks back, the man in coat reach the edge of the road, towards the car.
The man holds a long rod.
In the next 20 seconds, the driver screams as the man hits the windscreen with the rod.
Everything goes slow.
We enjoy the unequal mitosis of the glass. The driver loses control. The car skids to the left of the road.
In the next 20 seconds, we see a pool of red as the man kneels down, hit with a bullet on the stomach. Red splash on a white shirt.
The man does not want to live; the close-up of his face says. I don’t want to live.