The first paragraph of my novel

He stalked the corridor firing aimlessly, his cordless stereo blaring "The Times They Are a Changing". Mr. Galt huddled against a hollow faux marble pillar felt the bullets slowly chewing threw the flimsy material of his defense. A shell casing rolled slowly down the rough concrete floor inclined for handicapped access as a requirement of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The shaken man dribbling urine into his corduroy trousers imagined the crime scene technicians raising the copper cylinders to the light muttering the jargon of their profession to themselves as his desiccated corpse was wheeled out of the entrance way.