[ WP ] I checked my weapon . One bullet left . Just enough to do what needed to be done .

I woke up, and stretched out, ready to tackle another day. Although today would't be like other days. No, today would certainly be different, an understatement at that. It was a beautiful November morning, sun shining and all. My wife, Marina, was still asleep, along with our two kids, I assume. I rubbed my eyes, and pulled my half asleep body up and out of bed. 
 
 I work at The Texas School Book Depository, although I would n't be heading there today, at least not to work. I had other plans for today, bigger, more important plans. I just had to `` execute'' flawlessly. I went through my morning routine as I always do, brushing my teeth, this and that. I popped into the walk in closet and grabbed a shirt, along with a special package that had been delivered not to long ago. I was ready. 
 
 As always downtown was hectic, and the special event that would take place later today certainly did n't help. I got out of my car, taking my package with me. The time was around 9 O'Clock, so I would be a very minutes late coming into work. Nothing new. 
 
 I walked into work, being instantly greeted by one of my co-workers. `` Hello, Mr. Oswald'', he said. `` Uh, hi'', I awkwardly responded back. I had always been a bit of an introvert, or so people had always told me, not that I cared. `` What have we got here?'' He motioned towards my package. `` Oh, uh, just some books'', I said. `` Well, okay then. Have a great day''. `` Yep'', I said back, not caring about my rudeness towards him. I had business to attend to. 
 
 Time seemed to pass like a snail taking a stroll those few hours. I was mostly alone in the building, everyone else had joined the crowds in the street. I glanced up at the clock behind me. 12:22 O'Clock. Eight minutes. Once I was certain the building was empty, I set up shop. 
 
 My package did not contain books, not even close. I pulled it out of it's confinements. Oh she was a beauty. A Carcano Model 91/38 carbin with a telescopic sight. I looked at the box. `` Ship To A. Hidell'', it read. I chuckled to myself, thinking how clever I was. I checked the magazine. Exactly three bullets. This was all I needed. I was normally a perfect shot. 
 
 I pointed the weapon through my lair on the 6th Floor, overlooking Elm Street. The crowds below started to cheer, and my adrenaline kicked in. I started to sweat, and my gun began to shake. I knew I had to compose myself if I was to do this. I peered out the window, just as the motorcade carrying the target turned onto the street. I stared down my sight, finger on the trigger, cross hairs on my victim. I pulled down twice. 
 
 BANG, BANG. 
 
 My ears began to ring, but I had n't got the head shot yet. I needed to do my job, then get the hell out. 
 
 I checked my weapon. One bullet left. `` 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦''. I looked down my scope one more time, perched my index finger on the trigger, and squeezed. He slumped over, dead hopefully. 
 
 I had done the job. the President is dead. 
 

