The Assassin

      He glanced at his watch; the man should be back any minute now. The man he was going to kill.
         He heard the front door open and close and the sound of footsteps. Now all he had to do was wait for his prey to enter the trap.
         The assassin smiled as he thought of the newspaper headline: Young Man Dies Suddenly. No Apparent Cause. He had seen similar headlines many times. The papers made him laugh; All Idiots! He thought.  I’m the cause!
         His murders were seamless, carefully planned masterpieces. He left no evidence or calling card; just one small prick ended the life of whoever he chose. Reporters speculated about everything from heart failure to hypertension. It never crossed anyone’s mind that it was murder. 
         He heard the man walk up the stairs and enter the bedroom. For the first time he laid eyes on his victim. The man was in his mid twenties and was wearing a business suit. The assassin watched in anticipation. Soon he was going to kill, and how he loved to kill. He loved the power, the power to end life. To take life was intoxicating. The assassin lived to kill.
         The man was in bed now, quiet but not asleep. The assassin rose and walked to the bedside silent as a cat. He touched the man, who turned to look at him startled.
         The assassin stared into the man’s eyes. “I am the executioner,” he said ominously. “Farewell.”
         He savored the look of pure terror before he plunged the syringe into his victim’s neck. The man tried to scream, but fell limp.
         The assassin smiled a devious smile. He was satisfied, for the assassin lived to kill.