"Hey, it's you again!" How've you been?" The man with the needle said.
"Pretty good. Can you fit me in?" I questioned. He smiled back at me, flashing the yellow things he called teeth at me. Sweat and artificial light bounced off his bald head practically making it a spotlight.
The tattoo artist sat me in a chair. I took off my black leather jacket, leaving me in only a black tank top, baring his canvas to him. As he set to work on my shoulder adding a new tally to the herd of them I had to hold my breathe a bit, as I could the sub he had for lunch. Provolone cheese hung in the air, making my usually strong stomach turn.
It was over quick, a single inch black line doesn't take that long. He raised his head and nodded like he was proud of the little slash. Number twenty. Four groups of five marks on the back of my shoulder. I threw my jacket back on, the leather against the newly marked area hurt a tiny bit, but I was used to it. After dropping the money I owed to Baldy on the counter, I ran outside.
Breathing in the air outside felt good. I could breathe without provolone being in my nose. I slide my hand into my jacket pocket. Three things came out with it. My cigarettes, a pastel blue Bic lighter, and a piece of lined paper. Ignoring the paper at first, I held a cigarette to my lips and lit it. Taking a drag I turned my attention to the paper. It had been folded and unfolded so many times the creases were stating to rip.
I unfolded the paper one last time and read one the next name on the list. I could feel the blood leave my face and my heart drop. The last name on the kill list was mine. I guess the agency doesn't need my after the last one and doesn't need a person that could talk about when happens there.
The cigarettes dropped from my lips as I felt more than I hear the gunshot.
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10 Minute Writing Prompts
RandomA collection of short pieces that are based on a prompt and written in ten minutes. (If you want to take one of the prompts and write about it, you should post it and message me the link!)
