The Hit Man

Someone was knocking on the door. His heart hammered in his chest and he looked down at the heap on the floor that, up until about four seconds ago, had been his girlfriend and then down at his hands. They were covered in blood. He had known it would be messy, but he never expected there to be quite so much blood. It was funny how, no matter how long you plan something, you can never really plan for anything.

The knock came again, this time more urgent. He looked toward the door and then looked at the vase near the window and wondered if that was heavy enough to take care of whoever was there. At the same time, maybe it was nothing. Had she ordered room service? Maybe when he had gone down the hall to get ice, rehearsing what he was going to do for the millionth time in days.

"Just a minute," he said.

He ran to the bathroom and began washing his hands. The blood was still fresh, but it was drying so fast. He left a gory mess in the sink and there was still blood under his fingernails when he went to the door. He realized, too late now as his hand touched the doorknob, that he hadn't checked for blood on his shirt.

He opened the door. There was a pleasant middle-aged looking man standing there. He was smiling.

"Are you Robert?" He asked.

He swallowed hard and found himself unable to speak for a moment. "Yes."

The man lifted his arm up. Robert's wallet was in his hand. The man smiled again.

"I figured you were," he said. "I saw you leave the room with the ice machine as I was headed down there and then found this on the floor. I was just able to catch you headed into this room."

Robert smiled. He took the wallet and stuffed it back in his pocket.

"Thanks," he said.

The man nodded. "Enjoy your stay. Maybe I'll see you around."

Robert nodded. The man started walking down the hall. Robert watched him for a moment and then his heart nearly stopped as the man stopped and turned back to look at Robert.

"You may want to splash some water on your face," he said. "You don't want to scare anyone if you head down into the lobby."

The man lifted his shirt and there was a gun in the belt. He winked at Robert.

"Good luck," he said. Then he took out his key and entered a room down the hall from Robert's.

Robert closed the door and headed back to the bathroom. His face was spattered with blood. He let loose a crazy laugh and then washed his face.

You just never knew who you were going to meet when you went down to the ice machine.