This is my first attempt at first person point of view, as well as present tense.                                                    "I Need a Miracle" Another bullet pings off the trashcan nearby, and I duck.  I can't believe this is happening.  But, then again, it's certainly in keeping with my luck as of late.  A simple trip to the bank has turned into a nightmare.  That's what I get for taking a day off work to get some errands done before the long weekend.  I should have known. The courtyard is in chaos.  I can't see much from my huddled position behind the big concrete planter, but I can hear the noise.  The two gunmen are yelling at the cops, their hostage screaming in fear.  I wish, for her sake, she'd shut up.  Doesn't she realize her constant yelling might get on her captors' nerves, thereby ending her rather young life?  I hear the pounding of booted feet and wonder if it's the police SWAT team.  Not that I've ever seen a real SWAT team.  Just what I've seen on television.  I'll never look at a T.V. cop show in quite the same way again. More bullets imbed themselves into the bench barely six feet away.  I'm fairly certain I won't come away from this thing in one piece.  The bullets are entirely too close for comfort.  I stare at the hole dug into the concrete at my feet.  Close.  So close.  I can't believe the ricochet didn't get me.  The whole scene is so surreal.  This kind of thing just doesn't happen in real life.  Does it? I hear police officers yelling instructions to each other, but can't see them.  I hear the calm voice of a negotiator, I assume, trying to reason with the would-be bank robbers.  His only answer is more gunfire.  Damn.  Just how much ammo do these two nuts have, anyway?  I reach up to get my hair out of my eyes, and I'm mildly surprised to see my hand is shaking.  Must be adrenaline.  Lord knows my heart is racing fast enough.  I'm fairly certain I've never been this afraid for my life before.  Well, except for that time a van ran me off the interstate in the middle of holiday traffic at 80 mph.  But, that's another story.  Maybe that's why I seem so detached from the chaos going on around me.  Once you've stared death in the face and survived…nothing scares you quite so much as it did before. I know I'm kidding myself.  I'm scared.  Not so much for myself, surprisingly enough, but for my family.  Hell, I don't want a cop to show up at my parents' door, hat in hand.  What about my godson?  Well, at least I know the insurance money he'll get will put him through college when he grows up.  I have so many aunts, uncles and cousins who will mourn my death.  It's not fair to them to lose me this way.  Another lead missile lodges itself into the planter, inches in front of my nose.  I need to get to better cover.  I need one of those cops.  I need a miracle. Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I turn my head to see a man sliding to a stop behind a planter, identical to mine, a few yards away.  He looks at me, and our eyes lock.  I'm surprised to see his face reflecting some of the same fear I'm sure is on my own visage.  But, then, his body is made of the same vulnerable flesh and blood that mine is.  He has a gun in his hand, and I can see the sunlight reflecting off the badge chained around his neck.  He doesn't dress like any cop I've ever seen, but I'm not exactly particular at this moment. He looks at me, then the direction of the gunmen then back at me.  I can almost read the calculations running through his mind.  He's going to try to get to me.  Half of me is screaming for him to hurry.  The other half is yelling for him to stay behind cover before he got himself killed.  I don't want to be responsible for the death of a police officer. He looks back at me again, and I can clearly see that he's made up his mind.  It seems I got my miracle.  Maybe.  He crouches and I send up a silent prayer when he suddenly bolts from cover.  He scrambles behind the bench between us and stops.  Every muscle in my body is tense, willing for him to make it safely.  He sprints for my haven, keeping low.  As he slides to a stop next to me, I reach out and grab his arm to steady him.  I blurt out the first thing that pops in my mind. "Are you nuts?" He looks at me a moment, surprised I guess.  I wish I could take it back.  He risks his life and all I can ask is if he's nuts?  I'm nuts. "Let's get you out of here, what d'ya say?"  What do I say?  "Hell, yeah.  Any ideas?" He turns around and gestures at a man I hadn't noticed before.  This one is younger and darker.  The two share a wordless look that didn't mean a thing to me, but must've said a lot to my miracle, because he grabs my arm and crouches to run.  I copy his movements, thinking that he is nuts.  A volley of gunfire comes from the direction of the younger man and suddenly we're running. The cop has put himself between me and the direction of the gunfire, doing his best to protect me as we run for the corner of the building.  If we can make it, we'll be perfectly safe there.  This guy surely doesn't get paid enough to put himself between me and death…but he does it anyway.  I was right the first time.  He's nuts. The world narrows to that one building corner.  It's all I can see.  It's a miracle, but we make it.  We both lean against the wall, gasping for air.  Partly from our mad dash, partly from release of fear.  I barely have enough air to whisper a heart-felt thank you.  He smiles and nods his head then, to my utter disbelief, runs back out into the courtyard. I can no longer see what is going on, but I can hear it.  I think about all the police officers in that courtyard.  Low pay, bad hours, stress beyond belief.  But they still do this.  I guess the idiom that "It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it" applies, but I can't help but think that it takes a special person to do that job.  I'm grateful that there are so many people crazy enough to do what they do.  Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten my miracle. END