1 Vedastus Ebbing reached for the door handle and pulled. Ding. He entered and allowed the door to softly close behind him, the few customers and staff that stood in the store lifting their heads to him briefly before continuing their browsing. They didn’t recognise his face. Good. Gentle music played throughout the store. It was some ‘relevant’ and ‘relatable’ pop song written by the kind of person who had only experienced one bad thing in their life, like their daddy saying no, and used it to fuel their music. He could never understand why so many people listened to such idiotic things. Silence was always his preference. Carefully eyeing the cameras, he made his way through the shop. It was one of those stores that looked like a charity shop but, upon closer inspection, wasn’t. Parts of the walls were covered in bamboo with fake leaves, with the rest of the wall being painted in black and white stripes. Each area was labelled carefully and light shone on specific places that highlighted the latest sale or newest fashion trend. Despite the bright surroundings, the employees wore the drabbest thing he could think of. Dull-brown polo necks with black lines around the sleeves. “Excuse me, young man?” a voice croaked, snapping through the air. Thinking he was being spoken to, Ebbing tensed and looked up, only to see that the voice had been nowhere near him. Perhaps he was too tense. The voice had come from an elderly woman standing at the cashier’s counter at the back of the store. Behind it stood an employee, wearing one of the dull store uniforms. He was lanky with a stubbly beard and half-closed eyes which were locked on the bright screen of his phone. He didn’t answer her. “Excuse me?” the woman repeated, stepping a little closer. In her hand, she clutched a gold and white scarf, which she attempted to show the employee. Still, the dull-brown-clothed man didn’t budge. “I'm sorry, young man—” the woman tried again, but the employee groaned and rolled his eyes at her, cutting her words short. “God!” he spat. “Give me a minute. I'm doin’ somethin’ here.” He didn’t even lift his eyes to her. The woman’s posture slumped and her eager-to-pay hand dropped, hiding the scarf from her eyes and dipping her smile into a frown. Anger started to bubble in Ebbing’s chest, his hip suddenly feeling empty without his revolver. Why oh why did he tell himself he wouldn’t need it? Fists clenched, he took a step forward towards the counter, eyes snapping to all of the opportunities that surrounded him. The blue jeans might have been able to soak up the blood well enough if he decided to bash his head against the counter. Or, the belts could serve for a cleaner, quieter kill. But the most delicious method of them all was to choke the employee to death with his own phone and then use what money the man had in his pocket to pay for the elderly lady’s scarf. The mere thought of that one put a smile on Ebbing’s face. Regardless, the body would be easy to dispose of. But before he could even think of another option, his eyes landed on a camera pointed at the counter. He froze. Even the slightest kerfuffle would cause enough noise to draw attention. He couldn’t act out. Not now. Not here. Not yet. Gritting his teeth, Ebbing turned away, keeping his head down and shielding his face from the camera, looking at the items of clothing that hung beside him. He tried to push the elderly lady and employee from his mind, focusing on the racks. He wasn’t here to buy, only to waste time before his meetup. But there was nothing to say a little browsing would hurt anyone. As he passed the clothing, he ran his hand along each item, the feel of the materials stroking his skin sending ripples of shivers across his body. Closing his eyes, he continued around the shop, going from trousers to shorts, to underwear, then to shirts. Something brushed his fingers. He stopped and retraced his steps, opening his eyes to see what had caught his attention. A red and white Hawaiian shirt.
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