The cans land on the curb, waiting to be picked up in the morning, the man hears the foot steps behind him.

Click and the soft “shhh,” as butane is ignited, a cigar is lit.

“Good evening.”

“Hello”

The man stands between the homeowner and home.

“You know if it weren’t for garbage day, I swear I would have to break in and drag you people out; why don’t people go outside anymore? But, I suppose if you stayed inside, I’d have to come in to get you, and then I could not enjoy this little indulgence of mine.”

He takes another puff and looks at the cigar. He’s medium height, weight, looks – just another extra in the stage of life, someone to fill the corners but not take anything away from the actors or the action.

“But I suppose in the fall, with winter on its way, being out isn’t all that great, and I suppose if I didn’t have such a rush on this job I could have waited until you came out to rake the leaves. But, I see none…"

“I’m sorry, who are you?"

“Oh how silly, I do go on. I’m here to to kill you!”