The sniper set up his rifle, then he sat down to wait. Down below, on the streets, thousands of fans of the local football team were making a huge ruckus. It was a big game, and they were really up for it. He wished he was down there, it was his team too. He lit a cigarette and waited for his nerves to settle down.
Too much was riding on this job. He thought of his eight-year-old in the hospital. He needed the money.
The match was a cracker. His team led and then fell behind. Two minutes to go, the striker was racing towards the goal. He had the goal in his sights, and the sniper had him in his. He wound up to take the shot that would take his team to the finals; the sniper’s finger tightened on the trigger to save his child.