Six hours

Six hours

Six hours had passed since he arrived to the designated window, that with a clean direct line to his target, away from any passer-by look from the street down there, that allowed him to wait seated, that didn't receive direct sunlight at any time that would allow him to hide quickly after shooting, the perfect window.

Six hours he had waited, the target, a man he never heard of, an anonymous man far away from the public eye, but still with just the enough connections among the enemy lines, with just that tiny bit of knowledge that gave him so much emotional power over them, his death that would surely pass by as anonymous as him would be enough to cause a big shake among them, to create that little crack in their lines that would suffice to let them go inside and destroy them.

Six hour to memorize every detail of the door he would later cross, a door with simple ornaments but beautiful lines, strong and delicate at the same time, one could see that the wood it was made was hard enough to even be used as shield but that the opening movement would put it behind the target becoming for him an obstacle to any escape, the light color of the door even helped to outline people even more.

Six hours in which his body got used to the position he was, for even when being seated allowed him not to get tired, the pose of being over the weapon with arms ready and fingers on the trigger for so long could complicate things, and in fact two hours ago the muscles had been so tenses that it would have slowed him down, but now his body felt so natural in that pose that would even give him an extra speed.

Six hours to learn the subtle changes in the wind to adjust the shot, to get used to the surrounding sounds of the street to even be able to foresee if a person or car was coming near.

Six hours to think, how he was now again in the need of killing, to cut the life of another human being with dreams that must be lived. To explain himself how such death was a necessity, of the benefits of him dying as opposed to all the damage that he surviving would do. To deny the evilness in such action of shooting and any good things that might lie behind not killing. To convince himself that by shooting the trigger he would not become a killer.