It Suits You
I tried fruitlessly to wipe the tomato from my eyes, spitting an occasional seed from my mouth. The vendor was angrily yelling at me, but I didn’t hear a word he said; I spied a black shape vault from the window from which I had just tumbled.
I fished what cash I had from my pocket, apologized to the beet-faced vendor, and took off down the crowded street.
My chase led me to a shabby alley in the outskirts of town, where I lost sight of my target. I backed up against a dumpster, taking the first real deep breath since my discovery.
“You know,” a voice rang in my left ear, “I’m no expert, but tomato pulp suits you, fits your skin tone quite nicely.” I jerked my head towards the voice, but it left as quickly as it had come. I slid along the edge of the dumpster, eyes scanning the area around me. I heard a minute swish in a corner, which caused my muscles to tighten at once. Then all fell silent.
All at once, my target’s green eyes glittered directly in front of mine, smiling a Cheshire Cat grin. I gulped.