Writing Prompt: He ground his teeth in frustration.

Morning all. Last night I wa watching Wild Russia from National Geographic before bed and all night I had dreams of bears in hot tubs. They used geysers in the NatGeo show. The dreams weren’t actually about hot tubbing bears, but they were always off to the side. Like Waldorf and Statler in the Muppet Show. I’m pretty sure they were heckling the dream too. Most strange. But putting that aside, it is time for the morning writing prompt. Are you ready? I know I am. So timers set and off we go.

Well it at least got the bears out of my head. Could be fun to play with.

Wednesday, March 3rd: He ground his teeth in frustration.

He ground his teeth in frustration.  This was taking too long.  It should have been a simple operation, In, Out, Done.  But no. Something had to have gone wrong.

He began to pace.  All of the possibilities flitted through his mine, each one starting a mental domino knock down creating dire patterns. 

Someone came home early and they were caught.

Someone never left and was there when they arrived.

A neighbor noticed.

The cops were driving by on a whim or on their way somewhere else and noticed.

There was a flat tire.

An accident.

Ivan lifted his left hand to his lips and began chewing on his nails. Normally he wouldn’t He trained himself to stop the habit when he realized the state of his nails showed his nerves more than anything else. However at the moment his jaw was aching from being clamped together so long and he needed the break.  He worried his thumb nail as he paced back and forth across the floor.

Finally, there was the sound of a car pulling into the drive.  Gravel crunched beneath tires.  The small construction trailer where he waited had a small window installed beside the door.  In a touch of décor or to block the slanting sun, a small beige curtain had been hung over it.  It was a simple cloth darker around the edges where the sun hadn’t faded it’s tan. The edge was unhemmed and left long strings hanging down.  He crossed over to it and shifted the corner to see who arrived.  His heart beat painfully in his chest realizing there was no back door.  If it wasn’t the men he sent, he would be trapped.

As he looked he spotted their car, a pick-up truck that started white and was buried under layers of red dust so that it resembled more a pink makeup rewards vehicle than he suspected either man was interested in selling. 

They were back.  The sighed.  Whatever happened it was done.

He let go of the curtain and moved to the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard a second vehicle pull into the gravel lot.  He froze and his gaze darted to the window.

Perhaps he better see the new arrivals first. 

He moved to the curtain keeping his body away from the actual window lest he be shown in silhouette to the new arrivals.  He didn’t want to announce his presence to strangers.  No one was supposed to know he was here.  That was part of the deal.

He moved his eye to the gap on the side of the curtain, careful not to twitch the cloth.  The two en he hired were getting out of the pink dusted truck and they were both looking at the new arrival.  He could only see the backs of their head so he didn’t know if they were expecting the newcomer.  A black Chevy truck, newer in make but dusted with the same pink dust was parked behind them.  The driver got out.  He was a tall man, with a blue baseball cap and dark sunglasses.  He carried a shotgun.

The blasts took down both the men he hired easily and without fanfare.  The first to fall didn’t have time to react and the second barely got a step away before he was taken.  In the construction office he froze.  The man looked around, eyes scanning the parking lot.  Seeing no one, he got into his truck, pulled out of the lot and backed away. 

He left and  Ivan was alone.  He was glad he barked behind the construction office as it hid his vehicle completely from view.  Still he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone came looking.  He looked around and realized that while he waited, he hadn’t touched anything.  The drink he was given sat un opened where it was placed by the others.  Ivan pulled his shirt sleeve over his hand, opened the door and wiped off the outer knob.  The door was opened for him when he arrived so he hadn’t touched it.  He shut the door with his hip and moved to the white truck.  He side stepped the dead man and moved to the open door.  There on the passenger’s seat was the box he had the others to retrieve.  He picked it up, careful not to touch anything.  Then he backed away and made certain to step clear of the blood.  With luck he could be gone before anyone knew he was ever here.

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