Every Day Job Blues

The cloudless blue sky hurt to look at that morning. He glanced down at the ground, blinking rapidly. His eyes stung at bit, like your hands do when they grasp etched crystal goblets a bit too hard. It had been a beautiful day, too beautiful to be spent -- well, thinking about his job. The thought almost him sad, like when a favorite pair of faded jeans finally becomes ripped beyond repair.

The moon, which earlier that evening looked like a full and proper moon, seemed to have lost its will now, somehow dissolving into a Robin’s Egg in shape. The British would have said it had gone pear-shaped, meaning a screw-up. He wondered briefly and fancifully if that had contributed to his change in mood. He pursed his lips as he drove by the ocean, going through the blueprints of the day he had laid out in his mind.

He drove through the center of the small seaside village, outside of which his contact lived. The Moody Blues played on the radio to keep him company. Earlier that day, the flowers had bloomed, the bluebirds sung in cheerful fashion, and blueberries had beckoned juicily from a vendor’s cart. Now the town’s sidewalks had been rolled up. Everyone had gone home.

No, it wasn’t been the moon. He had a job to do. It was always the job that gave him the blues. He couldn’t honestly say he liked it. Much like the rest of us, he had simply started as a young man and become good at it -- very good. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was an expert. He was one of the best in the country. He actually was the best, but his boss wouldn’t admit it. Then his boss would have to give him a raise.

He reached his destination, but pulled up two blocks away, around the corner. It wouldn’t do for a neighbor to catch a glimpse. He exited the nondescript car and strolled to the correct address. He walked briskly, but not quickly enough to attract attention. He slipped around the back, where he quickly and silently broke in. The meeting was brief. They usually are. He brought his business to its inevitable and professional conclusion. The man who had cheated his employer's company lay dead. He paused long enough to make sure his target's pulse had stopped, then he left as swiftly and silently as he had entered.