The Killing Art

By Jim Freeze

Robert was a cautious man. He had a chain and two Yale locks on his door, and never—not even for a second—would he leave it open. His door was down a dark hallway just off a stoop, in a half-empty, condemned house.

He had lived there alone for many years, cooking and cleaning for himself, and living in constant fear.

Robert was an assassin by trade, and he lacked emotional security. Fear had become a most potent emotion in him, since a gathering of the dearly departed occupied his room daily.

It seemed his business was never completely finished.