Leave me be!

He decided that this morning would not be any different from the rest. He will not get sentimental. There is nothing more to be done about this choice; he will not change his mind.

He ate his cereal slowly. The milk had just run out, and the box of cereal was empty too.  He was proud of himself. He looked around; he did not hate the kitchen, but he never had the willpower to truly furnish it as he wished. For example, he never got around to buying a second chair for the table. After he finished eating, he got dressed and stepped out onto the street. He closed the door behind him and threw the key into the trash. He was not making things easy for his heirs, he thought, and for a moment, a sly smile appeared on his face.

He strolled calmly towards the City Park and sat down by the lake. He took out his wristwatch from his pocket and looked at it. Quarter past nine. It’s about time; it’s coming any minute now. It was a pleasant early summer morning. The kind of day that’s not too hot, but men rushing to work would roll up their sleeves. At that moment, it struck him: what a complete idiot he is. No one’s going to whack him at a public park in broad daylight. If he wanted to get done with it as soon as possible, he’d have to help that hitman. He’d have to find an alleyway or some narrow side street. He popped up from his seat and, with brisk steps, took off.

He arrived at a small, dirty street and stopped, gasping for air. Leaning against a wall, he caught his breath and then started smiling. How cleverly he’d come up with this plan. No one’s going to remember him as a vegetable; no one’s going to be changing his diapers. He took off his jacket and spread it on the ground, then sat down on it. Ah, yes, this is freedom. Today, finally, he can do as he pleases. He can do anything, but of course, he has to stay there; he doesn’t want to wait till the evening for the shooting.

A dog ran up to him and started digging in the trash around him. Right after that, a young woman ran into the alleyway, waving a leash in her hand. 

• Excuse me, sir! - she shouted and grabbed the dog by its nape.  

• Is everything alright? - she asked, then, without waiting for him to answer, continued: 

• I have some change, here you go, buy yourself some water or something to eat - she said, while digging through her bag.

She was in a flowing, floral dress, her hair barely kissed by the sunlight creeping over the housetops.

• Oh, no,  I’m not homeless, I’m just waiting, that’s why I sat down.

• Are you sure you don’t need anything? - she looked up

• There’s nothing, thank you.

• Then, have a nice ummm … sitting around - she said while smiling, and left.

Still, it didn’t feel right that she thought I was some vagrant. He jumped up, grabbed his coat and left the alley. The killer’s going to deal with him in the evening, most probably. What was he thinking, well of course. Why did he even bother waking up so early? But since he’s here, he might as well enjoy his last cup of coffee. He sat down at a friendly little café terrace and watched the people. His contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. A tall young boy, who handed him the drink menu with a smile. 

While sipping on the coffee, he became increasingly annoyed. He knew that he had enough of it all. He spent his whole life waiting, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the one to find him, waiting to find what the goal of this grey life is. He’d had enough: let something happen according to his whims! He got up and stormed off.

He swore, if they don’t finish him off soon enough, he’ll find some dark corner and do it himself. He was fed up with this impotent lounging.

He stomped up the side of Gellért Hill and sulked there, boiling with rage. He, of all people, shouldn’t have to wait for this. Get it over with, here and now! He waited for about an hour until he grew tired from the stress. 

And then, once again, motivation awakened in him. Now’s the time, he’ll take things into his own hands. He’ll jump from the bridge, and that’s it; he’ll put an end to this bad joke that is his life.

He picked out the spot for himself. Stepped up onto the railing. Looked back. Maybe, to admire the beautiful city one last time, or to see if anyone would try to talk him out of what he was about to do. But everyone was in a rush, or didn’t see him, or just simply didn’t care that someone was on the edge of the railing.He looked back at the olive-green river. The moment has come. He swung one leg over the water and back, then the other. His heart was beating fast, and a thought crossed his mind that it was quite weird that he would now stop existing. He will no longer be here. For fuck’s sake, that’s exactly why he hired a hitman, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts. That’s why he is not the one doing it. He panicked that he would mess it up, or worse, survive. As he was standing there, on the edge, all he could think about was why things couldn't be the way he wanted them to be, the way he had planned. He kept getting more annoyed and angry as time went on. No! He’s going to live! He wants to live! Perhaps things haven't gone as planned so far, but maybe that's how it was meant to be, and now His time has come. He can and will do something big. He will finally take control. Right here, right now! He’s going to show all these nobodies that the last sixty-odd years weren’t pointless, that he’s got it in him, just like anyone else.

Suddenly, he felt a strength he had never felt for many, many decades. He pulled himself up onto the railing. He imagined himself as a seasoned old knight returning to the battlefield one last time to win the war. He was ready to take back the castle of his life. He jumped onto the sidewalk and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it. He typed it into his phone and wrote a message: 

“Changed my mind. Leave me be. Keep the money.”

He put his phone in his pocket and left while laughing hysterically. Meanwhile, he started making plans for the millions of things he would do today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. In fact, he would get on a plane and leave everything behind.

Just as if he were to die, he thought and laughed hysterically.

M.K. woke up late in the afternoon and could barely drag himself out of his bed. He slowly cleaned his tools, cursing himself for taking on, in his words, “this total shit of a job”. By the time he left his flat on the outskirts of the city, it had already started to get dark.

He sat on the tram, bored, occasionally glancing at his pocket-GPS display. Damn it, he thought. He had, of course, left his phone at home. Whatever, he’d just deal with this miserable loser quickly, then go back for his phone.

He doesn’t get why the guy won’t do it himself. Although for that kind of money, he would do even more depraved things.