Sunlight seeps through the blinds of the window and the hum of cars creep their way up the tall complex. The aroma of coffee fills the air as it flows into a mug. The hitman waits for his mug to fill as he watches his wife route around the penthouse in a hurry to go to work. They don’t say a word to each other, but the flame of the argument still hasn’t died down. His wife rushes out the door and slams it on her way out.
Contemplating his decision the hitman meets with his sworn friend to talk about the situation and whether he should follow through with what petrifies his core. His mind scatters with questions that lead to no answers. Left with the feeling of being alone in this world, he ponders.
What do you think I do? I'm very conflicted and I cannot think straight.
That is for you to decide, this is morally wrong, but you are able to reap the benefits.
He stands next to the bed frame, watching his wife sleep gracefully. His mission still haunts him. He doesn’t know who to blame. Why did she have to do that? Why do I have to do this? Several thoughts begin to flood his mind as he soon begins to feel overwhelmed.
What am I doing? Why am I even contemplating doing this?
A small burst of sound floods the room when the lithe bullet from the hitman’s suppressed pistol flies into his wife's head. A tear runs down his cheek as he then points the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. They both lay in the room together peacefully with blood on the surfaces of their bedroom.