Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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He entered the kitchen and started opening cabinets looking for whatever tools he needed to get this job done. The place was vacant furniture or any sign of being lived in, the counters empty of crumbs and the cupboards bare. No sign of anything looking like a tool, although he thought about taking a full roll of paper towels discovered under the sink but shut the cabinet door instead. If he continued with this, he’d be able to buy countless rolls of them. Almost as an afterthought, like the way his son was at home when he opened the fridge out of boredom and not hunger, Simon swung the door to the refrigerator wide and glanced inside. No milk or juice boxes. No yogurt or tortillas. Empty. Completing the survey, he shut that door and opened the freezer above with even less expectation. That’s where Simon found the tightly-wrapped brown package. It looked like a frozen steak, but the weight of it was more significant and he knew even before he peeled away the tape and stiff paper what was inside. It was time to either run or make the call. Simon set the package down with a thud on the counter and hit callback on the phone, the dull purr of the ring on the other side like icy fingers tracing his Sandy Wexler 2017 download

The voice was cold winter wind over a snow patch and Simon shook as the instructions fell from the receiver the way dreams would from a dying man. No name, just a target description, long and very specific with the time and location. Clean shots, up close if need be. Wear a mask and move quickly. The deposit was under the oven. Click.

Simon felt bile rise up from his stomach and he thought for a moment that he’d have to run to the bathroom to vomit. He looked down at the unfurled paper nesting the tool for his job, swallowed and took the two pieces in his hand. Carefully, he threaded the cylinder to the front of the barrel, staring at the blinds of the kitchen window where a trapped sun wept for him.

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