I have baby blue eyes and blood red hair. My gaze is nervous and agitated, flickering around the small café, letting not even seemingly inconsequential details escape my gaze. Five other small blue-washed rounded tables were scattered throughout the room and two lower tables at the front of the café with a perfect view, through the slightly grimy windows, of the wet street. One table in the dead centre of the café had a potted lily, the only beautiful thing in here. Three of the rounded tables were occupied and one of the lower by nine people in total, seven female, two male. Three framed pictures of various sunsets on my left from my table at the back of the café. My table just left of the toilets door with a rounded display case to the right of this door of nine different desserts and twelve bowls filled with sandwich fillers nearer to the right wall than the desserts. Various breads were on plain wooden shelves on the wall behind it. Two women in their early twenties were behind the display at a twenty degree angle from my seat. One peroxide blonde with seven weeks of roots showing and the other covered in freckles. The slightly dreary orange coloured walls gave the café a dead feeling with the blue washed tables not helping.
A rather poor run down on my part and today was not the day to let my mind wander aimlessly and not take in every detail. A song number six on Germany's top 100 played in the background from two speakers in the far right corner and one nearly directly above my head. Irritating but not awfully so.
I slowly sipped on my black coffee, never letting my gaze leave my surroundings. I neatly crossed my knees and pulled the stupid red hair off my face. What I did to remain inconspicuous I thought dryly and could not wait to strip the red dye off my blonde hair and pull out these rotten extensions, coming two inches above my ass. I drained the cup and un-folded myself, went the three feet to the till and paid the blonde. I left through the front and smiled.
Just in time I thought. I could hear the oh so sweet music of the parade coming to the street just off this one. My heels clicked softly off the cobbled street where no cars could pass and turned left two hundred feet from the cafés door. The two buildings either side of me were five storeys tall and cut off onto the more main street where red tape kept the excited citizens of the town from joining in the farce of a parade. I sighed and leaned back against a shop window, left of where I came onto the street, taking in the approximate number of citizens within three hundred feet of me. Nothing un-usual to be perfectly honest. The sun streamed down and gleamed wetly off the streets pavements and gently off the windows of the store fronts lining either side of the street.
The chatter and feeling of excitement amongst the crowds became nearly un-bearable when finally, the tinkling of music from the parade came close enough. Sixteen scantily clad female dancers were in front, smothered in fake tan and feathers. And there he was on the float after them, the dancers the opening act for him practically. They probably were. I had not done all the research on the parade apparently as my brain frowned, trying to remember the detail as I screwed on the silencer of my gun under my thick black coat with one hand.
I kept my gaze on the dancers steadily approaching, twirling and shimming up along the marked road with the marked man behind them. Once ready, I cocked the gun and slid my arm with the gun, back through the sleeve of my coat. Designer. €600 in Barcelona.
I calmly watched as the procession grew closer, the music slightly grating on my nerves. Joachim Gauck, Germany's president, waved broadly to the crowd, his face creasing up as he smiled. I lifted my gun, it glistened prettily in the sun aimed at his temple. A dull BANG. I gasped and slumped to the ground, and then everything went black.
He looked at her soundlessly as she slumped down to the pavement. A nice shot he thought to himself, seeing the piercing in the exact middle of her forehead. He un-screwed the silencer from his gun and calmly yet quickly put the pieces of the gun into his briefcase, fitting each cold black piece into its designated spot. He slid down off the roof and held onto the pipes as he slid his way down the building and effortlessly leaped onto a closed dumpster on the side of the building not facing the street and hopped onto the grimy ground. He smoothened his tan trench coat closing the top shiny black button of the coat. He made his way onto the street through a side alley on the right of the building, ignoring the slight feeling of claustrophobia as there was little space between the buildings.
He heard the wails of panicked people and sirens before he got onto the street. He glanced across to see a crowd gathered around the body of the deceased, he was certain, assassin. He was on the opposite walkway, away from the chaos and the "Polizei" were herding confused citizens away from the scene. With Germanys president around there were plenty to do this. He was hustled away with them and took out my mobile phone from the breast pocket of his coat. He dialled a number while holding his breath to help quicken his heartbeat and thus his breath a little while he tapped in the number. He saw no point in keeping records of numbers in his mobile phone.
"Ah mama, something terrible just happened" he said down the phone, creating a choked edge to his words.
"Oh dearie, what happened? You can tell mama."
"I saw Keira getting shot in Germany and she died" he half sobbed down the phone, though his brown eyes swept the street with ease to check for anything suspicious.
"My little girl. My perfect daughter" she said tearfully down the phone. "Oh honey, well, look, the funeral arrangements can be discussed later. Make sure to tell the hospital staff you two are brother and sister, then you can see her as soon as possible."
"Okay mama. I love you" he choked down the phone, his bored eyes looking absentmindly at a loose thread on the cuff of his coat.
"I love you too my beautiful son. Stay strong until mama gets to Germany."
He hung up. Yawning, he followed the Polizeis orders to leave this street and glanced back at the place where his red haired sister took her last breaths. He strolled off and after a few turns, found a café. A peroxide blonde and a freckled woman worked behind the till, chatting as the freckled one took out a slice of biscuit cake, one of the nine desserts available, from the display for a customer.
He ordered a cup of black coffee from the blonde and sat down at a rounded blue-washed table just left of the toilets door at the back of the café. He looked at the dreary orange walls and rolled his eyes. They gave the place such a dead feeling he thought. He glanced to the centre of the room and one table in the dead centre of the café had a potted lily, the only beautiful thing in here he thought and continued drinking his coffee, looking out one of the windows onto the street as it started to rain.