" His cellphone alarm beeped. Now. Who would he nail?
A single target tonight. So, a single bullet in the gun.
David put the crosshairs on one of the guys walking out of the Quick Trip. Tall man, longish hair, scruffy beard. The guy pulled keys from his pocket and the crosshairs settled on his face.
What was next? David pulled the trigger. The back of the guy’s head exploded. A massive wound.
The guy’s friend looked around. The pregnant woman screamed. The black guy ran. The girls hugged each other.
David pulled the trunk lid back down. Clicked and locked. A gentle walkway wound around the mall. Sol slowly drove away.
David’s breaths came fast, almost pants. He then took his black pants off and removed his soiled underwear. He reached in the plastic bag for the fresh pair. Changing in the trunk of a dark and hot and moving car was difficult. Just part of the job now.
When he pulled the trigger, he orgasmed. Always did.
David slowed his breathing. Taylor series for ex = 1 + x + X2 / 2! + X3 / 3! etc.
Yes, that was better.
He closed his eyes and let go of the rope and let the rifle roll to one side. That guy’s head exploded.
They drove away, below the speed limit. Didn’t want to attract attention. No need to, in no hurry. "

― Michael Grigsby