4 [A Petty Quarrel]
It often chills my heart to see what little things cause murder and bloodshed. Today’s employer is a rich family’s heir who has forgotten how to grow up. A man in his late twenties killing someone over a scrap on his car. A car that, mind you, is quite expensive, but in truth it was really more the man’s own fault than the other person’s. I suppose apologies are no longer worth anything in the eyes of the rich.
This was a house not too different from the one I had resided in for a while, though only structurally speaking. Beer bottles, shattered glass, dusty surfaces and an unkept bathroom. Signs of life, though dirty in nature, were there all right. A loud snoring could be heard in the bedroom, heart rate tells me that the man was truly, fast asleep. Stacks and stacks of letter were piled near his doorway, it seems that he had built a barricade of bills to defend his lonely fortress. However, there were bottles on top of this barricade, and thusly they were taken care of.
I entered the man’s bedroom and choked back a cough. Immediately, the stench of something foul increased by ten folds. It was only natural, though I cringed slightly nonetheless. It is not fair to judge a man by the company he surrounds himself with, but the company of which he is surrounded with is his best judge.
Pillow, three bullets, and a silencer. An overkill, I admit, though more for security than anything else. Of course, I walked back through the way I came, being wary of his stack of bills by the doorway. Second nature by now to not mess anything up more than it has to be, though it already seemed like quite the mess. Just a simple exit from where I came, in and out.
I’ll be taking a shower after I get home, the stench seems to be unwilling to let go.
