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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