The boughs of the Brooklyn cemetery twist like contorted bones, writhing in a silent scream. Beneath them lie the cold stones, each marking a dwelling place in which no-one is home. I'm never bothered by the howl of the wind for I must traverse this place, I need the money to satisfy my vices tonight. 

There I see the grave of the unfavored gangster, waiting to be unearthed. Suddenly, I hear something. The approaching footsteps have the wet sound of someone on grass; someone who has not learnt to walk quietly and instead relies on the verges to muffle their steps. Each footfall is chaotically spaced from the last, no rhythm at all. Whoever it is lacks confidence, is likely scared.

But I don't take chances, the man advancing could easily have a different agenda. In the corner of my eyes, I see him openly carrying a firearm preparing to pull the trigger. I run for my life, this is not the way to end the Caruso bloodline. I'm not yet ready to join my wife Rosa and my family in heaven. I still have things to do, ambitions that I have yet to fulfill. 

If I survive, I will quickly inform this event to the godfather. Only a man of his wisdom knows that I have done nothing wrong to deserve a hit on my head. If I survive, I will pray to Saint Agatha of Sicily for the Earner's demise, she knows that justice must be done. Pir favuri, please let me survive.