I wish I had missed my trip to the grocery store today, had not wandered towards the magazine racks, or stopped to thumb through “Fowls Of Fortune” magazine. If only I had forgotten my wallet, or lost the book on my way back home, then I couldn’t have responded to the classified advertisement in it’s back pages, and this sinister rendezvous would not be taking place.
My stomach is sick with the realization that I will soon have blood on my hands.
Out of shadows steps a dark figure, his face creased with the memories of the many evil things he employs himself to do. With my envelope of payment, the man in white, is now destined to pay for his deeds.
The large thug speaks, pointing towards a large image of the target, pasted on the white man’s house, “So, He Killed your dad ?”