He jumped as the elevator doors opened. His hands were
shaking and sweaty; his breathing was rapid and shallow. He gripped the pistol,
his pistol, tight and knocked on the door.
You can do this.
He repeated.
A woman opened the door. He saw the man he was looking
for over her shoulder. Trying not to think, he shot her and entered the
apartment as she fell, continuing to shoot. The man tried to cower, but was
hit. Then it was over.
As he left, he was reminded of something his father used
to say:
“You never forget your first.”
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