Nothing To Worry About
Death was nothing to worry about. That’s what I told the loser as he laid down at my feet, my gun pointing at his head.
You’d think by now I would be used to killing, but believe me, it never gets easier.
The SOB was begging me not to shoot him.
I laughed. It was a nervous laugh. Like I said it’s never easy.
Why do I do it?
Money! Why do you think?
The rain was coming down at a steady pace by now. I looked down at the guy. What was his name? Phil? Or was it, Bill? Did it matter? I wondered if they were raindrops on his face or tears from all his damn begging. Why did they always cry? Did they think I would be more sympathetic toward them if they bawled like a two-year-old? Maybe I will change my mind. It made me want to put a bullet in them even more, if for no other reason than to shut them up.
I had to get this over with. The guy was getting on my nerves. They all do eventually, besides the rain was getting me wet.
I took one last look at him, pulled the trigger, and left him in the alleyway. I needed a hot cup of coffee and some dry clothes.
