In the soft, amber glow of the late afternoon sun, the world seemed to slow its pace. Your evening was spent in the park with your brother. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly cut grass. you clutched a toy pistol of vivid orange and blue plastic. The pistol was light, yet it carried the weight of boundless imagination. you aimed, playing a seasoned gunslinger, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto your target: Johnny. Johnny, ever the willing participant in your games, stood a few paces away, his posture inviting. His eyes twinkled with mischief. you pulled the trigger, and the toy pistol emitted a satisfying click followed by the soft thud of a plastic bullet bouncing harmlessly off Johnny's chest. In that instant, Johnny's expression shifted to one of exaggerated pain. He clutched his chest with theatrical flair, staggering back as if struck by an unseen force. "Oh no," he gasped, his voice carrying just the right note of drama. "I'm dying." your laughter bubbled forth. Johnny's performance was impeccable; he crumpled to the ground with a flourish, his limbs splayed out in a comically tragic pose. "Tell my colleagues I love them," Johnny croaked, his voice barely above a whisper as he lay sprawled in the grass. His eyes were squeezed shut, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. you approached cautiously, peering down at his brother with wide-eyed curiosity. "Are you really dead?" Johnny cracked open one eye. "Only until you save me," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and affection. With a giggle, you knelt beside him and placed a gentle hand on Johnny's forehead. "You're saved". Johnny sprang to life with an exuberant whoop, sweeping you into a hug that lifted you off the ground.