He's on the Young Street side of the parking lot, not trying to run away but waiting for me to catch up.
He's not making a move, and neither am I. So it's a stand-off to see who will play outside the box. Then, without a cloud in the night sky, it begins to rain heavily, and the drops of water pelt the ground until it becomes a deluge. Not a drop of water touches him or me. I begin to pray for the rain to calm itself until finally, it abates into dark ethers from where it started. "Why that family?" I ask him."No reason," He deadpanned. "I just felt like it."
At this point in my life, I had no patience for games or immature insolence. I don't like long speeches or explanations of who, what, where, why, and how. I didn't care if someone's father didn't love them or their mother was stifling and overbearing. I didn't care, and I didn't want to hear it. So I removed the handgun from my coat pocket and shot him in the heart. His body took a nice thud to the pavement, and I walked off toward south king and took Cedar street until I got to Elm, where my car was parked. This is the third case this month; it's almost as if we suddenly have a cell of Hawaiian curse terrorists casting curses at random. I've got my work cut out for me.
...to be continued
Credit: Civil Beat
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