Target

The sight picture took shape.  The foresight was now perfectly balanced in the middle of the rear sight aperture.  The target moved, seemingly of its own accord, drifting into the picture, becoming perfectly occluded by the foresight, then just appearing on the top sight plane.

Perfect.

I started to squeeze, feeling the trigger move towards the release point.
Gently, gently keep it aligned.

The release came as a surprise, as it always does with a clean shot.  I could feel the thump of the butt into my shoulder.

The 7.62mm round left the barrel at 840 m/s, going straight for my aiming point, the bridge of his nose, midpoint between his closely-set and glazed eyes.

"No Ben", I said, "a spreadsheet formula always starts with an equal sign".
"That's why the calculation didn't work"  "Lets try again, and remember, always the equal sign first"
The bovine orbs gazed and glazed.  I could imagine the cud being chewed.  I could imagine the thump of the butt into my shoulder.  I could imagine the end of the period, only 15 minutes to go.
"No Ben, remember?" "The equal sign first" . "Well done, now lets try for the first cell reference"

I could see the glimmering brass cartridge case spinning slowly, end for end, to fall with a gentle thump onto the carpet of the computer classroom.

Imagination can be such a release.

It's much better than going to prison for life, but not quite as satisfying.

Perhaps one day.

I used to be able to put in a 4" group at 300 metres.  I wondered how many I could get from the roof of "B" Block.

One day.

Maybe.