He was sitting at the kitchen table of the restaurant, with his head lying on the hard wood, covered by his long arms. The revolver was also lying there among the carrots and potatoes, but he was feeling too weak to hide it. He heard the creaky back door open and felt a heavy hand on his left shoulder.
"Tim! Tim! Wake up, you prick!”
Someone grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look at the intruder. His head was literally in Daku’s hands, whose scarred face always looked grim, so he could not tell if he was angry.
"What’s going on?” said Rreka’s voice behind Daku’s back.
"I don’t know,” mumbled Daku, "this motherfucker seems to have a problem. Tim, you idiot! What is it? We have a job in an hour, you know that!”
Tim winced and gazed at Daku with his big watery eyes. Like a dog, thought Daku. Like the dogs he used to kill when he was a boy.
"Well,” muttered Tim, visibly shaking and sweating. "I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I suddenly feel like I can’t do my job anymore. I can’t kill anymore, guys. I can't harm a potato! What’s wrong with me? I feel so heavy, so weak.”
Daku hit him hard in the face.
"Wake up, idiot! What are you mumbling about? We have no time for this shit!”
"I can’t!” cried Tim. "I used to love making humans eat my bullets! I was addicted to the adrenaline of those glorious moments! And now I can’t even feel the only joy in my life anymore! I can’t kill our next victim…”
"Victim?” asked Rreka, barely believing his eyes and ears. "You’re calling them victims now?”
"Tim,” whispered Daku in his ear, "this is not high school. We’re hitmen, for fuck’s sake. Did you take drugs last night?”
"No," said Tim. "No drugs, no alcohol. I just feel, I just feel like I want to sleep. Let me sleep.”
"I just feel, I just feel,” repeated Rreka in a high-pitched voice, "I feel like gunning this retard down right now. Man, I can’t stand pussies!”
Lufti, the restaurant owner, entered the kitchen.
"My first clients will be here soon, guys! We have a big wedding today, the daughter of some bullshit director or something. What’s wrong with him?” he asked, pointing at the motionless body.
"I don’t know,” hissed Daku, "call the Doctor. We need him for the job, otherwise I wouldn’t have spared this loser’s life.”
Lufti produced his best smile and a mobile phone. Tim heard him talk to a doctor, who arrived ten minutes later to the restaurant.
"What is it in the middle of the day?” said a familiar voice.
"This is Tim,” said Rreka. "Fix him! I’m going for a smoke.”
"Yes,” said the Doctor in a soft pediatrician’s voice. "Take some fresh air for a couple of minutes. I need to examine him.”
Rreka spit on the potatoes and Tim heard them walk out. He moved his head slowly and whispered aghast: "You? What are YOU doing here?”
A man with huge nostrils on a large, red face was standing behind the table, seemingly not amused about the encounter.