Melanie looks herself over in the mirror. She surveys the final product of all her preparations. In short she is dressed to kill. It’s no secret that she comes from money, she has the appearance of wealth. She wears it well.

She exits her bedroom and walks into the kitchen. Her heels, making sounds against the tiled floor with each step. There is a piece of paper and a pen. The pen find her hand, then a note is written, alterting her mom of her whereabouts.

Melanie pulls out her phone and calls for a driver. She didn’t want to be driving to the city by herself. That was just a dumb move. One of the perks of being a Gibson, the ability to do whatever ,whenever without question.

She stands at the helm of her driveway, smoking a cigarette, waiting for her ride. The air is warm and calm. It looks like the beginning of a beautiful evening. Before too long she sees the beams from her driers headlights, alerting of his arrival.