Trudge was an apt term. The snow clung to Jason's legs like a hungry lover.

He ignored her cries for his warmth and entered the C-store with casual strides.

The coffee was in the back. As he strode over the grimy tiles, little balls of snow fell from nylon of his snowpants, making the acne-covered teenager at the counter grimace with disdain.

He took off his bulky gloves and got himself some coffee, turning around and leaning against the back wall, letting his fingers thaw against the thin sides of the paper coffee cup. He had always been the type to ponder the possibilities of every situation, but his guard was down this afternoon.

When the big bulking man walked into the store, not ten yards away from where Jason stood, he couldn't have said whether or not his motive was pure. His cynicism had been left at the door.

When the bang went off and the wall behind the register was decorated with the teenager's meager brains, there was no mistaking his intent.

Jason simply stopped stirring his coffee. He kept his relaxed position at the back of the store and watched the behemoth raid the register. He never noticed Jason in his rather obvious position and ran out of the store in a rush.

Jason, despite the pounding of his heart, picked up his coffee stirrer and continued the slow stirring action, gently blowing on his coffee to calm himself. After taking a few slow sips, he started toward the front of the store, his gloves stuffed into his pockets. He leaned over the counter, careful not to touch anything, and gazed down at the teen, whose head was practically obliterated. When Jason looked up at the wall, he saw why. The wall was pocked with many little holes from the buckshot of the shotgun. He took another sip of his coffee, turned around and surveyed the rest of the store, walking through to make sure there were no other witnesses. He was satisfied. He left a note on a sticky pad on the counter and took the Sharpie with him.

He had brown hair

and was as big as an ox

other than that, I didn’t see anything

I’m sorry but I can’t let you

drag me through this.

He swung a leg over the seat of his snowmobile and revved the engine after he started it. Guzzling his coffee and shoving the trash into the small storage compartment, he was ready to go, looking about the woods and parking lot with a slight feeling of paranoia. He pulled his helmet on roughly with the turtle and sped off, wondering whether or not the light snow would cover his tracks.