Writing 6 ( a narrative) by William Wu He

More or less nine years ago, something happened that I'll remember for the rest my life. I was ten years old more or less and I was walking on the street. Suddenly I saw something that caught my attention.
A man was trying to steal a woman's handbag. The thief was pulling the handbag and the woman was pulling too. I looked at them without doing anything, and when I had walked
about ten steps away I turned back and I saw the thief running with the handbag and the woman crying on the floor. I turned around and I continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Many years later, I remembered that, and I felt like a "bad" person for not helping that woman. On the one hand maybe, if I had saved her, she would have invited me to have some sex, I don't know... It's something that follows me every day and hurts me. On the other hand, I could be a hero saving a woman and I'll live without this sensation on my inside that bleeds and consumes me every day, little by little...
So, being a hero or being a coward is in your own hands, and the way that your life follows is only commanded by you.