What’s the most significant secret you’ve ever kept? Did the truth ever come out?
He stood in the shadows, watching the building beyond, half-hoping nothing happened, other half hoping he might see the man he’d been tracing for so long. The night was dark and drizzly, water dripping from the rim of his hat, soaked his shoes.
He should have worn better shoes.
The building remained dark, a looming cliff-face in the thin glow cast by rusted streetlights. It was hard, knowing things, secret things he could not share. Sharing meant death or at least the loss of his job. He’d prefer the loss of the job but one never knew.
Why hadn’t he worn better shoes?
A light flicked on in a window on the first floor. He tensed, struggling to discern cause through the drawn shade. A shadow passed back and forth and then another two in quick succession. Three?
He considered moving closer, attempting to gain access to the building, but held back. Too dangerous when he didn’t know the identity of the third man. Woman?
His socks were soaked in his shit shoes.
Two forms materialized in front of the shade, shadow-boxing. A punch was thrown. Another. His hand went to his belt and the gun there.
What happened to waterproof shoes?
One form raised an arm, something clutched in one hand. Dark spots splattered onto the shade. Frick, he just hoped it wasn’t his man down.
Didn’t he have better shoes at home?
The first form collapsed. The third entered the screen, tackling form two. He’d labeled them one, two and three according to their appearance, not even sure which shadow was his man.
Tomorrow, he’d have to get better shoes.
The forms struggled back and forth. Hands wrapped around two’s neck. Two collapsed. There was a gun shot. Form three fell. No need to worry about that secret anymore.
Kicking off soaked shoes in his car, he drove home.
Tomorrow, he would get rain boots.
Three shadow forms stood behind the shade, watching him go.