The Jewel’s Eye (3)
George watched. Or, rather he waited. He saw the cat, the boy, the cart and the dog. He had slept in his wheel chair all night. His navy binoculars hanging heavily around his neck. His bottle of whiskey one quarter empty. The pain still dulled in his legs. His head throbbed in rushes of blood pressure. It was low again. He knew it. And still he waited.
He saw the curtain flutter opposite. On time. Exactly. She would never be ready.But two years were worth waiting for.
He glanced at the newspaper that would be delivered by the boy in six minutes exactly.
John checked his timer on his mobile. Watched the seconds flicker down. It was almost the same. It needed to be exactly as it was.
The sun light, the time, the wind speed. The length of shadows. Exactly. Everyone within the event, had be connected. Those not, or had never been, kept out of the way.
Each to their own. He had made precautions. Elaborate. Secret.Carefully planned. No one must intervene.
Every variable kept to a minimum of risk outcomes. It was not about time, it was about timing. If he could control events-enough of them-he might have a chance to slip through. The cat didn’t matter. The dog absolutely did.
And the boy? He was fortunate he was still delivering newspapers.
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