"Yes I'm sure; I looked down my target, took sight and shot him"
"What do you want to do?"
"I think I just want to be alone"
"Ok, but just say if you want to talk or go out and do something to get your mind off things. I know this great bar where you can be under the table in no time and have forgotten all about this."
"Thanks but I think that I just wan' to be alone for a while; you know think things over, get my head around everything that's happened"
The roomy turned and left without another word leaving the sniper alone in the mould old cave of a room.
The sniper sat down beside the crate, pulled a pencil and some paper out of his back pocket, and started to write.
Dear Mum and Dad,
He paused for a moment's thought and then started again
Dear Gill and Bob,
It's Matthew here and I know I said I'd write to you every week but times have been hard and I didn't really have anything to say before now.
I'm afraid to have to make the first letter between us in seven years one containing bad news but any way here it is, Roger is dead I killed him.
I was on top of a roof opposite him and he shot at me, I pretended I was dead by dropping my hat off the side of the building and when he stood up, I just shot him.
He stopped the sniper couldn't think of anything more to say at the moment and already tired from the day's work he bundled the letter back into his pocket and went over to the rotten bed, crawled in, pulled up the sheets and fell into a heavy sleep.
By the time he had awoken the next day, it was already well into the morning.
When he woke up, he found a cold bacon and cheese omelette on the crate. He ate it and then pulled the letter back out of his back pocket and began to write more on it.
I felt terrible; I brought his body back to my hideout and it is still lying there in the corner waiting to be buried .I don't know whether you would like to have him buried or cremated but I think that he at least deserves a good soldiers funeral.
I have not found a good place to bury him yet although I can imagine a lovely little hill away from the town and the crime and the murder of the city.
I do not know if you would like to be there when I bury him but I will mark his Grave and show it to you if you ever want to come to this desolate cesspit of a place.
I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me and will eventually be able to get on with your lives and I will try to do the same.
He set down his pencil and read over what he had written it wasn't great but it was to the point and he had never gone to school and so had only learnt what he could on the streets.
After posting the letter through one of his contacts he went on to the head quarters of the Jamafricans and was almost at once put on another duty as sniper that very evening.
When the time came to go back out on the rooftops, he had downed so many gin and tonics that he couldn't even walk in a straight line never mind shoot straight. He got up to the rooftop staggered about for a bit and then suddenly a bullet whizzed past his head.
"Oy watch it!" he drunkenly shouted," you almost hit me there!"
In the next seconds, his head was blown apart with the impact of a bullet that was well aimed.
On the next roof, the sniper's roommate was congratulating himself on a brilliant shot and with that; no knowing what awaited him, he went to inspect the corpse
