Walking swiftly through the empty streets on this cool fall night, I'm thinking of home and a warm drink then my warm bed.  But of course the part of my mind that never sleeps - the part that is pure mafioso is checking around, in the park as I move by and down the multitude of dark alleyways I pass.

My building was in sight when my peripheral vision caught a movement in the alley I was passing.  Instantly I reacted and pulled my gun, squinting my eyes and trying to see into the alley's darkness.  Taking cover against the building's corner - I called out.

"Whoever is in there, come out slowly.  I am going to come in shooting if you don't make yourself known.:

A quavery old woman's voice answered me, "Go ahead and shoot, put me out of my misery, I have no life desire any more"

I edged around the corner and behind a pile of junk slowly and quietly, then I saw her.  A woman who looked 80 years old sitting on a pile of bricks, shoulders slumped with her white hair straggling down the sides of her wrinkled face.  Lowering my gun but keeping it at the ready, I walked over to her.

"Why are you in this place old woman and why would you want me to shoot you?  It's cold and you should be home with your family."

She looked me up and down and said "Child, I was like you once, a young mafioso, full of vim and vigor, anxious to make a name for myself in my family and worshiped my leader and godfather.  I became a hitter, made quite a name for myself, the bosses sending me on "jobs" knowing they would get the results they wanted, and they did.  But now I am too old for it any more and all that is left is the faces"

"Faces?  What faces are you talking about?" I asked, curious despite thinking I was nuts to be standing here in this alley instead of all ready home in a warm bath.

"Ahh" she said, "you will have them too some day, when there is naught left in the world for you to do but sit and think.  Your thoughts, even your dreams, they will come to you.  The faces of the ones you have killed and walked away without thinking about it, the faces of their families as you killed in front of them, their wives, their children, oh God their children's faces.  You don't notice them now, it's just a job, but it will all catch up with you in time, no matter how right you were, no matter how much the boss wanted the man dead or how much he deserved it, you have tucked those faces into a corner of your mind and they will come out eventually"

I was getting cold and impatient with her ramblings. " Look old woman, there is a place just up the street where you can get a hot meal and a bed for the night, let's get you there.  I am going home."

"Go" she said, "I am staying here, those things mean nothing to me now."

So, without another thought, I left the alleyway and again turned the corner towards home.  A single gunshot rang out behind me.  I ran back to see that she had blown most of her brains out with her own gun.  Covering her with her coat, I looked down at her for a moment and thought, well, she has stopped the faces.

In a much more somber mood, I again headed home, thoughts of what she had said wandering through my brain.  Was she right, towards the end of MY life, would that be all it would amount to is faces?