A Better Murder

            The knife feels heavy in my hand, making me unsure of myself.  No.  I can and will do this.  He deserves it, right?  I feel that familiar grim smile wash over my yellowing teeth, my cracked lips curling.  This job should be fun, I think, as I run my thumb over the blade, sharp as ever.  I look at the handle and think, "This is for you, dad."  I nod to myself as I sweep a glance around my apartment, fearing for the last time, as I hope that my promise to my deceased father will finally be achieved and vengeance will be mine.  As I slip out the door, I silently hope he'll finally be proud of me.  I'll kill his killer.  As I make my way to the elevator, I wonder, if I do this, am I any better than the man who killed my father?

The End

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