Superstition

The howling wind whipped around the rooftop. I was well wrapped up but still the Chicago wind chilled me to the bone. The fact that I wasn’t moving helped me not at all. My eye was glued to the scope, my breathing slow and calm. I had a four leafed clover encased in plastic in my wallet. My usual lucky heater in my pants pocket. Even a rabbit’s foot on my keychain.
I made my own fucking luck but appeasing the Gods did no harm at all, besides, if karma was a thing this bastard had it coming. A known trafficker and peddler in human misery. Destroyer of families. Of course I could sit on my moral high horse on this damn freezing rooftop all…