He wasn’t suppose to look surprised

He wasn't suppose to look surprised.

This filthy begger had been perched at this alley every day for years. I passed him every day; everyone passed him every day. Everyone turned a blind eye, avoiding his pleas like the plague. These rich and powerful people shying away from a peon, disgusting. It needed to be remedied.

The idea started as a passing thought, a daydream to occupy the time during useless meetings. For months it had consumed me. I dreamt of it many times. I always imagined fear in his eyes, an ignored plea for mercy upon his lips.

The damn vagabond was suppose to be afraid. He was suppose to look at me like Death incarnate, God almighty!

HE WASN'T SUPPOSE TO LOOK SURPRISED!

I did everything right. Everything! I bought the gun with cash out of state. I rented a car under a fake name in a different city and parked it a block away. It had a license plate I stole from a junkyard. I was prepared. And he looks at me in mere surprise! Gah!

Did he not realize how much effort I put into that moment? Did he not realize the time I spent on his worthless life?

He just sat there, cup still outstretched begging for change. The pistol and his life rested in my hands. His lips formed a perfect 'o', eyebrows raised. Not what I imagined.

The rush faded. I almost didnt pull the trigger, almost. I shot him more out of obligation than hate. After all, he had seen my face. I emptied the entire damn clip into him with all the rush and joy of taking out the smelly garbage.

Well laid plans led me away free and clear. I walked past the alley the very next day, cops and yellow tape marked the place. I paused like so many others to see the scene. A detective picked up the a bullet casing, examining it in morning light.

"I think there is a print." he said.

A cold hand clutched my heart. My breath grew shallow and my eyes widened in alarm. I turned to walk away shaking my head in disgust. I wasn't suppose to look afraid.