112 days
Ribs. It would definitely be ribs for the main course. And what about sides and dessert? Sweet potato fries. With mustard dipping sauce...
Murderer. Sam never got used to being called that. She just did a job like everyone else. Made a living doing what she was good at. Of course her clients never called her a murderer, they never really called her anything except sometimes a last resort. It wasn't fair, she thought, that now she had to live out the rest of her existence being a murderer. It didn't sound as good as hit man or assassin. Assassin especially she'd always liked. It had such class. Murderer came, as she now knew, with a death sentence.
111 days
"Latvian, what's your name?"
"I thought you'd never ask. Andris."
"Weird. I thought I had you pegged as an Andy. I must be clairvoyant, too."
The Latvian didn't say anything.
"I'm clairvoyant?! How come I didn't know this?"
He laughed. "You're not psychic."
"So... The Andy thing."
"Just a lucky guess, I suppose."
"Anyway, Andy, I think you'd better get going. I understand the business of being a ghost must be lonely, but I need some alone time since I'm almost down to 100 days. How about we say you leave then? 100 days OK?"
"I don't know about that. I'd leave tomorrow if you'd only see why I'm here in the first place."
"To bother me and give me the gift of being multilingual. Got it. You can leave now."
"Why me though? Why not a kill that meant more to you, like Nick?"
Hearing his name gave Sam a little sting in the back of her throat. Then she started to think that maybe Andy had a point. Maybe he was sent for some reason because she never even knew his name. Maybe murderer was something she'd have to come to own before they killed her for it.
"I killed you. I killed 25 other people too. I'm a murderer."
Ribs. It would definitely be ribs for the main course. And what about sides and dessert? Sweet potato fries. With mustard dipping sauce...
Murderer. Sam never got used to being called that. She just did a job like everyone else. Made a living doing what she was good at. Of course her clients never called her a murderer, they never really called her anything except sometimes a last resort. It wasn't fair, she thought, that now she had to live out the rest of her existence being a murderer. It didn't sound as good as hit man or assassin. Assassin especially she'd always liked. It had such class. Murderer came, as she now knew, with a death sentence.
111 days
"Latvian, what's your name?"
"I thought you'd never ask. Andris."
"Weird. I thought I had you pegged as an Andy. I must be clairvoyant, too."
The Latvian didn't say anything.
"I'm clairvoyant?! How come I didn't know this?"
He laughed. "You're not psychic."
"So... The Andy thing."
"Just a lucky guess, I suppose."
"Anyway, Andy, I think you'd better get going. I understand the business of being a ghost must be lonely, but I need some alone time since I'm almost down to 100 days. How about we say you leave then? 100 days OK?"
"I don't know about that. I'd leave tomorrow if you'd only see why I'm here in the first place."
"To bother me and give me the gift of being multilingual. Got it. You can leave now."
"Why me though? Why not a kill that meant more to you, like Nick?"
Hearing his name gave Sam a little sting in the back of her throat. Then she started to think that maybe Andy had a point. Maybe he was sent for some reason because she never even knew his name. Maybe murderer was something she'd have to come to own before they killed her for it.
"I killed you. I killed 25 other people too. I'm a murderer."
