Tom Burgher had escaped a single shot shattering his
sixth floor window whizzing past his head before planting in the wall of his
kitchenette. The police question him, they examine the caliber, which
apparently was high, but a mess, and determine a trajectory to be flat if not slightly
downward. It most definitely did not come from the street below because the
blow would have entered his ceiling from that severe an angle, and the view of
the target, if indeed it was aimed and fired with intent, would be extremely limited.
No, this came from out there. 'Where' would be impossible to determine, but it
appears the glass may have deflected the bullet, perhaps saving the Intended yet, in so doing, left them with no sense of its source.
Questions asked but gone unanswered, they stood on
his landing, and stared at the thousand windows staring back. Burgher knew
then, it was time to move.
V
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