On Target

I poured the small vial of poison into the glass.

"Service!"

I turned. The waiter saw that it was me and quickly softened their tone.

"Sorry sir, I was looking for the... Yes, now!"

I turned back around to see the tray of wine glasses being picked up and carried away, out into the room.

I tried to watch it, but lost track, and stared at the glass I was soon handed.

Turns out, the odds of being given the poisoned glass were the same as my target having an unrelated heart attack which made me think I had succeeded.

Ruined Walk

I placed the ball on the tee and prepared to swing.

I tried to put everything else out of my mind, but it was impossible. The rejection from all my so-called friends who had oh so convenient excuses to bail on me. My probably soon to be ex-girlfriend who thought that a few cancellations meant I should spend the day with her. And my family, who still thought this was a stupid game to play.

But I had to try to ignore that, and enjoy myself.

I swung, hit the ball, and got a hole in one.

That no-one witnessed.

Following The Script

The hostage taker picked up the phone.

"Are you alright?"

The hostage taker sighed.

"Look, I get you have a script to run through, but we'll all get through this quicker if you don't try to build a rapport and just get me what I want."

There was a brief pause.

"Very well, what is it that you want?"

"Detective Gerald Anderson."

"I'm sorry?"

"He killed my wife. I want him to come in here."

"To do what?"

"Talk."

The sound of a shotgun being locked was audible over the phone.

Detective Gerald Anderson hung up and ordered the breach. 

Witness Your Death

"Behold! Your death!"

I saw what looked like me, albeit much older, on an operating table, flatlining.

I looked at the interdimensional entity, and then raised a hand.

"You don't need to-"

"This, like, the probable outcome or-"

"No, this is how you die. We perceive things in 6 dimensions and-"

"Prove it."

It tilted its head, then pulled a gun from somewhere on it and placed it on the table.

"Examine."

I looked it over, and it seemed to be a real gun. I handed back.

"And volia!"

He shot me.

I died, but at least I was right.

Running The Math

I had just got the second tumbler in the safe when the phone rang behind me.

I froze, as much to stop myself setting off the safe's burgler alarm as it was indecision.

In a split second, I ran through the math, where if I let it ring it would probably wake up the owner, but if I cut it off now there's a chance they'd investigate and be alerted anyway.

In the end, I reached our before the second ring and picked up.

"Happy 60th birthday!"

Given the first two numbers had been the date, I ran the math.

Unclean Fighting

I stared at the footnote near the end of the report for several moments before I ordered a secure telelink with the author.

Once the interplanetary link was established, I asked how sure they were about their beliefs we were 'unclean'.

"Very, one of our escape pods in Sector 480 landed on one of their farming planets, and they leveled the whole planet like they've been doing to our-"

I hung up and immediately ordered suicide missions to get people down onto their most important planets. If they were willing to do our fighting for us, why not let them?

Why The Push

I was just getting to the part where the detective was going to reveal who did it when a shadow passed over my book.

I looked up out of mild annoyance when I saw them staring at the sea far below the cliff face.

"I come here to read because almost no-one else comes here." I hazarded. They turned around, tears still running down their face.

"Ever realise everything would be better if you were gone?"

"No, because that's not true. For either of us."

They blinked back a couple tears, then looked at my book.

"The maid did it."