“You know, I’ve been thinking of retiring,” he said standing up and walking to the bathroom. “I mean, sure, I’m the best at what I do. But you know, lately, it’s been getting to me,” he said, inspecting himself in the mirror. He walked back into the room and over to one of the double beds. He opened the briefcase that was resting on it and pulled out a spray bottle and one of those lint-free dust cloths. He dampened the cloth with the cleaning fluid from the spray bottle and proceeded to meticulously wipe down the room. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I don’t like the money,” he said as he worked. “The job pays really well. I just wonder if there isn’t more out there for me. I’m not getting any younger, and with every passing year, I get the feeling like my dreams are never going to happen.”
He stopped. A hair on the side table. He carefully picked it up and put it in a small plastic bag.
“I mean, I’ve always wanted to paint. For years I dabbled, but never did anything serious about it, you know? But now, I’m thinking if I don’t put in the time, it’s never gonna happen. I mean look at you! Successful business man, lots of money, influence. If you never followed your dreams, would you have ever made it big? No, you wouldn’t have. You’ve got to follow your dreams.” He stopped again, staring at the painting hanging between the two beds. “You’ve got to follow your dreams…” his voice trailed off. “That’s what I’m going to do,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “I’m going to follow my dream and paint! I won’t take any more work. As of today, I’m retired!”
He took a quick look around the room making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Everything looked good. Having put everything back in its place, he closed his briefcase and took out a digital camera. He’d have to document things for his client if he wanted to get paid. He snapped a few photos then walked out of the hotel room. Once the door was closed behind him, he removed the surgical gloves and put them in his pocket. They’d be burned along with the rest of his clothing. After all, one couldn’t be too careful as a hitman. Correction, ex-hitman, he thought with a smile.
Continued in Day 21. On Vespucci’s Trail
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