Mr. Brenneman ran for the first two blocks when he first spotted it. Running down women, children and at one point a nun, he looked behind at the sky to make sure that there weren’t more. He slowed down and cautiously walked the third block thinking, “This is no way to handle this.” The park was across the street and he spotted an empty bench standing solemnly just outside the reach of the skyscrapers’ long shadows.
Brenneman took a deep breath and loosened his hundred dollar silk tie sliding it off his collar while unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt. He took a seat on the bench and closed his eyes feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. His fingers reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out the cigarette box. Turning it over, he gently tapped the box on the back of his hand. The filter felt soft between his teeth as he pulled a cigarette out. He sucked the fire from the lighter down the length of the cigarette and held it deep in his lungs.
His lower jaw hung slack but he pursed his lips tightly around the filter so no one would notice. His left hand shivered ever so slightly as he tucked the lighter back into his pocket. Brenneman took his right arm and lifted it to his forehead wiping at phantom beads of perspiration. He slowed his breathing and gulped down slowly taking in the sun.
“A smoke never tasted so sweet,” he muttered under his breath. He spotted two more snipers on two different rooftops as he puffed the last puff of smoke through his yellowed teeth. A pink cloud burst in front of him just as he thought, “They must be gentlemen, to let me have one last smoke.” Mr. Brenneman didn’t feel the bullet as it plowed straight through him.
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