‘Let me introduce myself’.

Well, that’s how it went, he walked up to me, smiling, tipping his head slightly to the left side, with a cheeky lopsided grin looking like Joey from Dawson’s Creek, but the boy version.

 

But this is really all irrelevant; I’m currently sitting and waiting patiently, five stories up, the tip of my gun resting on the windowsill, just hoping he doesn’t make an appearance.

For now it is silent and all I have to do is wait. This always requires the most focus, being still, I sit in my Yoga crossed legged position, channelling calmness.

There was a time I didn’t have to do this; I was trained, in control, now I’m a Yoga focused, meditation app toting, Crunchie bar addicted, gun for hire.

Seriously of all the chocolate bars I could have developed a thing for, why a Crunchie? It’s hardly the quietist. Just thinking about it makes me want to eat one, like right now.

He’s sure to appear, I can feel my heart racing, just slightly, but just slightly is too much. That’s it, this crossed legged thing isn’t working for me at the moment, Crunchie it is.

Why does unwrapping the foil have to sound like a train exploding in a tunnel? If I do it quicker, like pulling off a Band-Aid?

Nope still loud!

The clock ticking down the seconds at the side of my eye, almost there, the Crunchie will have to wait.

Leaning into the gun, my target, perfect, I aim, I am calm, he moves into position, my finger on the trigger, almost there, one second more, time has slowed, micro seconds and wait, wait…

 

‘Heya’.

Loudly from behind me.

‘I was wondering where you got to?’

Fucks sake.

‘What?’

He found me again, Joey, my first hit.

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