PERFECT DAY

The back of my head itched as I raked my hands through my hair, trying to calm the mumblings in my head. I drove in dissatisfaction as my mind struggled to figure out why my day felt incomplete. There was something I was yet to do.

I was bothered. I’d done everything perfectly today except for one thing, which kept me restless. I woke up at exactly 5:30am, completed my official report at 6:00am, had my bath at 6:30am, and got ready for work at 7:00am. I ate breakfast by 7:30am, and got to the office by 8am.

I always had a complete day; doing my routines at the appropriate time without skipping any.

At 8pm, I was already on my way home. The car sped through the darkening day, its headlight flashing, warning the incoming traffic. I scowled as my grip on the steering tightened considerably. It frustrated me greatly that I had forgotten something. I took deep breaths to calm myself, my frustration mounting by the second. It was becoming a not-so-perfect day. My day wasn’t fulfilled. I needed to do something else before the end of the day, even though I couldn’t remember what.

My breath caught as something scurried across the road. I hit the brakes, my car bumping hard into something. I quickly got out and looked around, glad that I’d taken a shortcut. The street was seemingly lonely with no one about. My car was stained.

I had hit someone. A woman. 

Hair soaked in blood, eyes glazed, unseeing. She was dead. I slowly swallowed hard, not at all fascinated by what I saw. Rushing to the booth, I snatched my gloves and pulled it on, dragging the corpse by the hands into a nearby alley. The body left a trail of blood in its wake. I opened a trash can and heaved the body in, slamming the covers shut.

With adrenaline running through my veins, I ditched the gloves, returned to the car and zoomed off. Parking the car in the garage, I entered the house and slumped into a seat. Finding my breath, I let out a chuckle. The frustration was gone.

I killed by 8:30pm.

The day was perfect now.