A Journal of my adventures in the world I inhabit while I'm asleep.
I’m a hit man, working for the Mob. I just got a contract to take out two leaders of a rival crime family. I have the photos, and home and work addresses of my intended victims. I’m in my hotel room studying the information, trying to figure out the best time and place to hit them. I’ll probably shadow them for a while first.
I use a high-powered rifle with a scope; it takes special ammunition. I don’t want to buy the shells anywhere nearby; they might be able to trace the purchase. I know a place upstate, out in the country, where they sell a lot of ammo to deer hunters. I decide it’s the best place to go, no one will know me there.
When I get to the hunting supply shop, there is a sign in the window: “Closed for Lunch”. I’m hungry, so I decide to stop at a nearby tavern and have lunch myself.
As I’m eating, a couple of guys I used to work with recognize me from across the bar and approach. They tell me they're up here on a hunting trip. I try to act nonchalant, tell them I work in the city now: insurance sales. They invite me to a party someone is having at a hunting lodge later on, but I decline. I tell them I’m just passing through, gotta get back to work.
As I leave the tavern I try to decide: should I still buy the shells out here? If anyone comes around asking questions, these guys are gonna say they saw me. I probably ought to look for someplace else to get the ammo for this job.