For Years I Was A Hitman Called ‘The Aneurysm’ And I’m Ready To Tell You Why I Finally Retired

That’s how ended up in the musty room reading a Bible like I’m some kind of born again fool, sweating bullets and checking the window blinds every two minutes.

I swore I was just having one more peek out the blinds. After that, I was going to put that Bible back in the drawer, turn on ESPN, or something and wait for morning light to call my bosses to get me out of the pot of soup boiling in my head.

Okay, last look. I parted the blinds and looked out at the soft glow of the lights of the parking lot. Nothing new. A couple of P.O.S. cars, some scattered trash and a quiet, dead end street on the other side of the lot.

Wait…shit. I saw my car parked on the other side of the street which ran next to the motel parking lot – it’s dome light on, barely giving the thing some visibility from about 30 yards away. Fuck. The dome light went out. I saw the shadow of someone sitting in the driver’s seat. I heard the familiar sound of my door open and close.

I checked my pockets. Shit. I left my keys in the ignition, door unlocked.
Had Phil seen me looking through the blinds? No time to think. No time to do anything but head for the door. But no. The door faced the parking lot where Phil was likely strolling up. How did he know that I was there? Only so many shit rat motels in this small town. I should have bolted for the anonymity of Atlanta or Charlotte.

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