He sat with his back to the wall taking long, slow breaths of the cold night air. He could see her across the street through the thin curtains, sitting, reading some meaningless work of fiction no doubt. He had found her one day as she sat reading in a coffee shop. She was a girl, wearing no make-up, dressed in dull earth tones, with hair up in one of those nasty buns women wear. She did wear a pair of square framed glasses and he noticed that she often looked over the top of them, reminding him of his eighth grade teacher whom he had a crush on. He used to practically drool watching Mrs. Greer as she sat on the edge of her desk. She would teach lessons on Chaucer and Shakespeare, perched with her bare legs crossed, looking over the top of her glasses at the class. His intended victim had a similar body type and mannerisms but not nearly as alluring to the man as the teacher was to the boy. He had decided then that the girl, who reminded him of his first crush, would be his first victim.
Her name was Vanessa and she was married to a man who worked late most nights, much like this night. She would often wait up for him to get home, mostly reading and occasionally watching television. He was a stock trader in the Asian market and by the looks of the place he had done OK. She got up, went to the kitchen then returned with a glass of wine, closed her eyes after a short sip, and leaned back in the chair.It was time. He opened the case on the floor by the window and began to assemble the HR Precision Pro Series 2000 HRT Sniper rifle. It had 3 rounds of magnum caliber bullets and he had no fear of the 30-yard distance or the damage they would do. He looked at his watch and it was 12:01am, April 4th. He lined her up in his crosshairs. Sorry honey, it’s a necessity.