Im seated at a high-class restaurant at one of the balcony tables. My cigarette is placed between my fingers and my eyes are sharp and wandering. Im waiting for a girl. My target. I don’t usually kill women, but who am I to question my agency? I finally spot her, her long, dark red dress hugging her curves so perfectly and matching the dark red lipstick she’s painted her lips with. She looks absolutely delicious, I will admit. But that doesn’t matter. She’ll be dead soon.
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