The next day was fresh and bright. Tim did his normal morning exercises, grabbed the grocery list that Marcy left on the table, and proceeded to go to the center of town. He happily walked down the road towards the market with a spring in his step. He felt fresh, and -woah, a car! Tim leapt out of the way as the car sped past, splashing Tim in mud.
"HEY! Watch where you're going, bub!" Tim shouted at the car rapidly shrinking into the distance. He was all dirty, and with no bath in sight. He was too far from home to go back, and he wasn't even close to the town yet. "Great," he mumbled. He continued walking but, luckily, chanced upon a small brook. It was too small to bathe in, but maybe he could wash his face first. He splashed some water in his face, and was disgusted to learn that foaming algae was all on the surface. The algae had stuck to his face, and now his face looked like it was foaming.
"Great. Just great." he said. His only option now was to walk all the way to the town and hope that they had something he could use to wash up in. The only problem was that his leg was acting up again from the bombing, a consequence the nurse explained was a result of loss of synaptic motor nerves in his leg, and he couldn't walk correctly. All of this was becoming very stressful to Tim.
When he reached the town, he was surprised to find that there was nobody outside, despite the numerous houses. He couldn't see well through the foaming algae, and he hoped that there was someone to help him. He kept wobbling through the town when he saw some people up ahead. But then he saw someone.
"Hey!" he shouted up to them. "Hey! A little help, please!" He suddenly had the impression that they didn't hear him, for one of them had a gun pointed in his direction. He immediately started his bullet evasive manœvures by stiffening up like a rabid dog and then running around, but before he could start, his leg acted up. Then, the man shot him.