[ WP ] An assassin is monitoring a room waiting for someone who never shows up .

It's been a long day. 
 
 Oh, sure, he's used to days like this. A lot of his job, honestly, is sitting around waiting for these little fudgenuggets to get home already. People who are n't in the business do n't understand how boring it can be. If he had to describe it to someone, which he never would, he would describe it as being like a lava lamp exploding. Sometimes, you can hear the glass cracking before everything goes boom, but there's really only 1 second where anything exciting happens. But there's a terribly long wait for things to heat up, and there's such an obnoxious clean up afterward, if it takes you by surprise. Really, one has to be a *saint* to be an assassin. 
 
 This job is atypical- it's not some political prick stuffed asshole, this time. It's just a guy who own a restaurant. A disgruntled employee who wants to see his former boss dead- the whole time he was talking to the kid who hired him he just wanted to stop and say `` Kid, shut up, you're an oversensitive nitwit, grow up,'' but, ehh, paycheck and all that. 
 
 Climbing down from his hiding place in the office to stretch his legs, he circles the desk. It's a rather neat desk, for all he ca n't really see it. The computer is n't ancient, but it is n't new either. Small stacks of papers are piled neatly on the left corner of the desk, organized alternately by staples or paper clipped together. The mug filled with pens says `` Caffeine Container'' on it. Bleh. 
 
 He sighs, looking out the window. All he can see is the parking lot. He seriously considered waiting until later to B & E, but the later you wait to enter, the more likely you are to get caught breaking in by a neighbor. Better safe than in jail. 
 
 He knows that no one is going to be showing up for some time, so he decides to snoop on the unfortunate soul. His desk is very business oriented. Devoted almost entirely to official office things. A good thing for a boss to do, but painfully dull to pass the time with. 
 
 He's about to wander into the kitchen area to grab a snack of some kind when he hears something thump in the drawer he just closed. Actually digging into it this time, rather than just glancing, he finds a phone. 
 
 God, it's such a blast from the past. It looks like a shitty early-2000's phone, with an LCD screen comparable to a Gameboy. He knows a couple drug-dealing guys who have phones like these for business- you buy the shitty phone that has a very limited number of minutes on it that you can hide from people, since the phone is shite anyway and you can ditch it whenever. You avoid anyone knowing about your shady dealings on your real phone and you're out, what, 20 bucks? 50, max? Maybe he should invest in one. Then again, he generally sets up his appointments online, and he does n't want another chatty, bitchy brath McGee, but... 
 
 The phone is still advanced enough to text, if barely, so he decides to occupy his time by flipping through old conversations. It would seem that the guy used this phone to communicate with one person, and one person only. The most recent conversation went like this: 
 
 > **Friday, NOV. 14** 
 
 > hi, honey 
 
 > *babe, u cumin 2 c me after work? * 
 
 > hav 2 go pick up wife so no 
 
 > *D': * 
 
 > im sorry 
 
 > ill make it up 2 u on ur bday this monday; ) 
 
 > *okay: ) * 
 
 > *luv u! * 
 
 > this phone is about to run out of minutes 
 
 > ill buy another one and text u on sun ok? 
 
 > *why wait so lang? * 
 
 > anniversary on sat 
 
 > i think she suspects sumthin so i have to do really good 
 
 > *i hope u think of me when ur with her* 
 
 > i will 
 
 > no question 
 
 > got ta go 
 
 Well, this boring guy just got more interesting. He has fun imagining different scenarios of how his weekend went to pass the time. Being the single-minded workaholic he is, he naturally has the entire scenario turn south. The wife waits until they're in a fancy restaurant to show him evidence of his cheating. He still, stupidly, denies it. Heads begin to turn as they argue louder and louder, her demanding a divorce on the spot from him and him not admitting a thing. Eventually, the head waiter comes over and asks then to leave; they're disturbing the other patrons. Except they're not, it's prime live entertainment for the stuck up yuppies at this place, who rubberneck at the fighting couple until they're out the door, out of sight, and out of mind. 
 
 They do n't stop fighting once they're outside, either- she's hitting him, just hitting him, more crying than yelling anymore, begging him to tell her what she did wrong. *Nothing* he'll say, *you did nothing wrong*, but it's the wrong answer, it's always the wrong answer because something obviously is n't working between them. She'll sit on the curb and cry because she does n't understand, and he'll stand by awkwardly and watch what disaster he has wrought, wondering if he should just run away. 
 
 Or maybe, maybe his wife was less sympathetic. Maybe she's a raging bitch who has been wasting all his hard earned money on stupid things. A ( former? ) trophy wife who's getting on in years, a gold digger who could care less about the man and more about what's in his pants, be it his dick or his wallet. They'd go shopping before they eat, and she'd drag him around by her gravitational pull as he carried all her *new clothes, new makeup, new phone, new everything*, and he smiles and smiles and puts up with it because he knows that she'll use it never and he cam lavish all these items on someone he knows will love it for real, later. When his wife goes to sleep that night, he'll leave and take 75 % of the stuff they just bought to his new girl's place and just... stay. Forever. 
 
 Maybe, on Saturday, he comes home from work to a full cooked meal and a smiling wife, all hungry from working so hard ( or fucking the new girl; there really is n't a difference is there, someone is getting fucked ). What he does n't know is that his wife put some date rape drugs in his portions, and he slowly grows more and more tired as they sit and cuddle together on the couch as they watch the movie. She offers to drag him to bed, but she does n't. She leads him to the garage, where there's a drain she can wash out easily, and bashes his head in with a hammer. Or maybe she situates him in the car, turns it on, and leaves him. There's just so many POSSIBILITIES, he grins stupidly and ca n't stop himself. 
 
 He crawls back up into his hiding place, still grinning like a fool, waiting for the early morning to come. He has a very finite amount of time to kill the guy and get out before any other employees show up, if any time at all. He may have to wait until closing. But he's willing to wait. Because he's a saint compared to these people. And now he has all these wonderful stories he can keep himself occupied with until he sees him. 
 
 He'll be waiting a long time. He'll never know just how right he was. 
 
 ( ( Any comments/criticism/feedback is appreciated! ) )
