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If he drank enough, maybe he would forget about it, he thought, taking another swig from the bottle. Make it disappear. Vanish like mist before the sun, as if it never happened. Like tears in rain.

He emptied the bottle and threw it aside. That was the hitch in his plan; there was never enough. Not enough in the entire world to obliterate what he had done.

They looked so human. So real.

He tried to tell himself it was just a job. That used to work; worked right up until he pulled the trigger the first time, all those years ago. Hadn’t worked since, but he still kept trying.

The drink never worked, either, but he still kept trying.

They had more in common than he liked to admit. They kept trying, too. Kept trying to come back to a home that was never really theirs, where they weren’t wanted, where they weren’t allowed to be.

He punched the wall and tried to muster up some courage.

One more job; just one more. Then maybe he could retire, too.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: Three Word Wednesday prompt this week is the words Drank, Hitch and Muster. This story has inevitably picked up shades of the cult classic movie I was watching at the time; can you guess what it was?)