Instinctively he looks up and sees the gun waving in his face, butt-first. Dazed by this incomprehensible reprieve he does nothing until his executioner grabs his right arm and thrusts the pistol in his hand. In confusion he feels the heat of the other man's palm diffusing from the gun handle. He glances from the weapon to the face of the older man whose eyes are closed as if in a deep sleep. The cigarette angles down from his lips disinterestedly.
Seconds sneak by as the gun is brought down, pointed up, waveringly held, and brought down again.
There is a choking noise from the young man's mouth as if he were trying to talk. Then he tries to get up on his feet, but tumbles back down in obvious pain. The gun clatters to the ground and spins slowly around the safety. The man in the white linen suit then opens his eyes and stoops, belly sagging, to pick up the pistol, grunting and losing his cigarette with the effort. With a sigh of resignation he snuffs out the smoking butt with his shoe, steps up in a deliberate stride to the prostrate man, and shoots one bullet into the back of the skull.