NovellaWritten in 2003
New-York. In October 2002, I followed the news of the D.C. sniper attacks, random shootings from a van a few blocks away. What stayed with me after the arrests wasn't the body count or the mechanics of the setup. It was a single question: What if it wasn't random?
It feels like she's looking through the scope the wrong way round, straight into my eye.
The Marksman