He was going home.He couldn’t believe it. He stared up at the beautiful night sky, whose darkness was tinged in a beautiful pattern by the grey clouds that lingered on in the sky. He held his heavy glass of beer, sat on the stairs and just smiled to himself as he thought about his wife and daughter. He caressed his locket, images of his beautiful wife and daughter flashing in his mind. The last time he had seen his baby girl was five years ago, just before he received a letter from his commander, summoning him to the military base. It was a special mission that had dragged him away from his wife, one that was only supposed to last a year in a foreign country but had run through five years due to the complications from the terrorists.No, he couldn’t remember it just like it was yesterday because it wasn’t. He had written countless letters to his wife every day for his first year because he didn’t know which year he was going to die. Luckily, he had left her with the password to a

Hector swirled the brown liquid in his small glass cup. He stared at the content with hazy eyes and watched as a trail of water slid down the small glass and hit the table.The image of his wife and child submerged in their pool of blood with their throats gaping flashed through his mind. Hector winced and shook his head. He downed the liquid in a quick flash and slammed the glass on the mahogany counter."Another," he hiccuped to the barman. Against his better judgment, he poured another round. Hector downed it again and relished in the burning sensation as it slid down his throat. He needed something to distract him. He needed something physical to hurt him."Another," Hector called out weakly fully intoxicated. Hector didn't want to feel anymore, he didn't want that heaviness and sadness that hovered over him after he had found their bodies. Hector wished he had died during one of the missions, that way, he would be saved from such sadness. "Hey, Jack, that's enough now, you can't

"Where is this place?" Hector asked as he moved toward the large window. The room was larger than an average-sized room, it could fit about five king-sized beds and there would be space left for twenty people to march around. "It is…was my house," the strange man said. "It's beautiful," Hector took in the sight as he stood by the window. He was staring at the nightlife wherever he was. The city seemed to never sleep, various buildings had their lights on. It made the scenery look like a vast sky with small flashy stars. "Yeah, I could stare at that window all night," the man sighed, dismayed. Hector looked at his faint reflection at the window, he couldn't see the strange man's reflection. "I don't even know what your name is," Hector continued to stare at the window even though he couldn't see him. "Henry Alvarez," the strange man, now Henry, said. "¿Como estas?" Hector said. Henry snorted. "Not everyone named Alvarez speaks Spanish, you bigot." Hector chuckled and looked a

He watched the way her slender hips swayed each time she swung her golf club. He noticed that it was a bit too short for her and concluded that she wouldn't be able to get any ball in the hole. After five minutes of watching her, she didn't prove him wrong. The file on her husband had informed him that she was in her early fifties, but she didn't look a day over 29 years. The skirt hugged her taut frame perfectly and each swing caused her skirt to move dangerously revealing more than enough to entice interested men. Every time she managed to hit the golf ball squarely, she would bounce excitedly and her chest would wobble. But Hector wasn't one of those men who was interested in seeing what was underneath the branded clothes, he had a purpose. He grimaced as she bent again to take a swing. It would be miss after miss, he was sure of that. He smiled at the barman who looked more interested in watching her. He pulled out a few notes from his new wallet and shoved them into his whi

Hector had grown to like the burning feeling of whiskey as it slid down his throat. He enjoyed it. On some days when he was feeling more brazen, he took shots of Vodka. But tonight? He wanted to be alert so he was currently cradling a glass of Coke and rum. He was at the bar again, waiting for Mrs Georgina. He flicked his wrist and stared at his new golden wristwatch: 8:46pm — she was forty-six minutes late. He took the last sip of his drink, paid the barman and turned to leave. A hand caressed his chest. “Impatient, are we?” Georgina whispered in his ears. From this distance, Hector could scent the heavy perfume she wore. “Well, I'm not used to being stood up,” Hector replied as he sat down. His eyes scurried around the bar: it was almost empty save for the lonely man who had been drinking since he got here and the arguing couple a few feet from him. “Sulking isn't a good look on you,” Georgina snapped her fingers at the barman who brought a bottle glazed with matte black. “I h