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The Hit
by Melissa Heaphy

Sitting in the car,
I check the mirrors
for my approaching witnesses.
My heart is racing
as I strain my ears
for the sound.
It's been quiet too long.
Is he even home?
Has something gone wrong?
The tree that protects my identity
obliterates my view--
every sense compensates.

I try to see the future,
what will be
happening
in the next ten seconds?
A police chase?
Will I freeze?
What could go wrong?
After so much planning,
how hard could it be?
Every detail worked out,
what day,
what time,
where to be and
where to go--

Waiting for the sound.
Did the gun go off?
What if I didn't hear?
My foot shakes
on the gas pedal.
Waiting
for the signal.
Tight.
Ready.

I've never
seen a
street
so
still
as this one,
until--

BAP!
A rush of movement.
I hold my breath--
his figure flies through the dark,
lands next to me
and we screech
away.
I see headlights--

Slow down.
Go right.
Drive normal.
It's so smooth--
no sirens,
only the sound
of the
wind
whistling through my
window
and the echoes
of her scream as he fell.




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Document last modified on: 05/22/1998

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