THE ASSASSIN

Racing across rooftops, closing gaps between buildings
sliced by moonlight, they gather above the C-suite
of the Grand for their convention. Already the hole
is carved to access the top floor, no need
to climb these floors, this is the fastest route to the top.
They drop into the office and the adjoining conference room to
plan other infiltrations from the luxury of leather chairs.

In the morning there is little surprise, even less concern.
Another CEO must have been dropped in through that hole,
we recognize the truth for what it is: inevitable. Of course
we’ve seen this before. That’s how the last one arrived.
In the middle of night, the next morning all smiles
and cordial concern for everyone.

I walk into her office, report in hand. She smiles. Little
has changed in the room. Her style looks remarkably
the same as her predecessor. The taupe walls, framed
diplomas and awards and pictures of children who must be hers.
There is just enough unique that it can offer a slim glimpse
into her persona, the rest is the same, down to the identical
exotic choice. On the wall behind her are twin blades,
Hypocrisy and Equivalence.
I realize even the names are the same.

A friend tells me his company got a new head.
Where’d they go? I ask.
Stanford.
Yep. Makes sense.

The swords?
Still there.

It’s strange looking back on it now. We should’ve known
they would burn the buildings to hide the bodies.