It started as a drunken argument outside a pub. Which turned to shoving and threats. Then Trevor threw the first punch.
His fist connected high on the other guy’s cheek. A clean shot with follow through.
The man tottered back and his feet slipped out from under him.
The crack of his head as it hit the kerbstone punctuated the hubbub of the street.
Steve dropped down beside the man. ‘Fuck! He’s not breathing.’
A pool of blood was already forming.
‘I hardly touched him!’
‘You hit him and he’s dead!’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘Jesus, Trev. He’s fuckin’ dead!’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.