Bad Idea by Olha Sheludko

The man in a suit will be dead in ten minutes.

I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He seems so nice. Blonde hair, chubby body, puppy-like eyes. This similarity to a dog is more noticeable, when he smiles, like right now when he talks to his friend. It's not only his appearance, it's just him. How quick he came to hug his friend, burying him in a hug, how he continues to bible his thoughts non-stop, even though it's already been half an hour. The ring on the door of the café rings - a new delivery of food has come. Every Friday, at six o’clock, right on the dot. An advantage, to be sure, there are plenty of people in the café and delivery guys always create a mess, so he and I could disappear and when the deed is done, it will be too late. He is still unaware of everything, speaks and speaks so enthusiastically, moves his hands while speaking. It's created a chain - this movement, so uncoordinated, pushed away the cup of coffee, it fell down and coffee splashed on the waitress’s shoes. His reaction is predictable - he apologised, but the waitress - Hilary - doesn't seem to mind. Still, he wants to help because that's who he is - kind, clumsy, foolish. Hilary already took the mop, so he takes one of the boxes that arrived. The box is filled with oranges, which I find funny - he has loved them since he was a little boy. Those details make me feel guilty, but I hide it deep inside my soul - we all have been kids, but I had to do it if I wanted to avenge her. Eye for an eye. 

He goes out of a café and I follow him. He is carefree, humming some melody I can't recognise. I try to avoid any thoughts as my hand caresses the gun. He passes by the van with food and goes forward. That's… surprising, but I am not new to improvisations, but something seems off. I know that he wouldn't leave without helping or saying goodbye to his friend, but maybe it's for the better, he doesn't like to say goodbye, so he stays as long as he can, which would make my job more difficult.