A MOMENT OF STILLNESS…
The concrete roof is chilling the front of my thighs and my breath is misting upwards. I count the seconds between each breath, finding the rhythm. The key to the shot is breath control. Wait until you are on the bottom of an exhale—when there is no air left and you hang between the last life-giving breath and the next. That’s when your body is still. And you take the shot.
The front door opens. Carousel is in navy blue today, long skirt and blazer cut by a crisp pink shirt. I pick up her forehead in the scope and drop down to her eyes as she pulls her key out of the deadlock. She takes a breath. I match my breath to her breath. We breathe together and I wait for her to close the door. She steps outside and we breathe out. She closes the door. We breathe in. She pushes against the handle. We breathe out. Pushes again. And now we’re at the very bottom of our breath. A moment of stillness. For her and for me. My forefinger moves and the butt kicks against my cheekbone. A hissing spit and the spent shell chinks onto the concrete. I breathe in. Swing the scope down to the body on the ground. Ready for any movement. But the shot was good. I pull the gun off the rest and pick up the shell. Now the fun really starts.