Once there was a man, he was 32 years old. He had blue shoes, his shoes were shiny, but they had some scratches across the right side from that time he walked in the forest. The shoes were made from snake leather, bought in a little shop in Morocco. The man was a hitman and worked for a boss called Don Quoqo. The man killed someone almost every other week for Don Quoqo. Once he killed a woman, Martine, 31 years old, with a pony tail. She always wore a white sweater, that sweater had golden buttons. The face of a tiger was printed on those buttons, roaring inside a jungle with a few leaves besides him, drawn quite badly. 20 years later the man sat on his porch with his wife Dolly. Ten years later he went to the supermarket. He couldn’t decide what to buy, he wanted a snack but wasn’t sure whether he wanted something sweet or savoury. There was a discount on the Chocy chocolate, but he just ate that yesterday. And Dolly wouldn’t like that, he knew she wanted candy today. But that was not really what he wanted, then he thought about ice-cream. He didn’t eat that in a while. It was hot outside and he could save that for later. He couldn’t decide between cherry and cookie-dough ice-cream, but this decision took so long already, so he just opened the fridge door to pick something. However, the fridge door was colder than he expected, this fridge doesn’t seem so energy efficient he thought, the supermarket could save a lot of energy by making this more efficient. But what could he do about it. He picked the cookie dough ice-cream and was impressed by the beauty of the ice crystals on the package. He went home. He went sailing. 13 months later he was already dead for 1 week. He lied in his grave. In his blue shoes, with the golden tiger buttons shining in the dark coffin, with the cookie dough ice-cream still in his gut.

Thoughts about this story
This story is made to proof that stories should have a regular pace. This story zooms in almost randomly towards the most useless details and zooms out to some headlines of the life of this man, leaving his overall life in a blur. It feels almost frustrating to me how weirdly this story is written, but it does provoke some curiosity as well. I couldn’t help it to add the years sometimes to indicate some distances (otherwise it just got too weird, and I couldn’t help it to make one coherent last sentence, giving some logic to this story.