Oh my god, she was beautiful. Her long dark hair seemed to float behind her as she skipped down the sidewalk. She was maybe ten or eleven; by twelve they turn into brats.
She reminded me of a young filly, with her long legs and boundless energy. She was alone, but full of life and full of herself. She was a keeper.

Her romping about was making it very difficult to zero in on her. But that was part of the challenge. She stopped for a few seconds then proceeded to Hop Scotch. Ah, that was better. I raised my eye above the rifle sight to make sure where she was. She was a beautiful prize. I brought the sight onto her chest, I would hate to destroy her head.

I held my breath, and pulled the trigger.