The diner’s doorbell goes off.

Enters a lady in red. She creeps through the diner with the slyness of a fox, buries herself into a booth of another eater, he unexpectedly looks up from his fork of dripping eggs.

She sits across, fire on ice, placing her purse down.

He drops his fork. She is a memory to him, distant tastes and desires. Unanswered calls; he remembers her weeks ago.

She pulls a cigarette out, lights it relishing the taste.

“You look great,â€? He whispers.

“If I am to ask you to do something for me, would you? Promise?â€? Her voice tapers. She leans forward, her lips inches from his. He knows he shouldn’t agree but can’t help himself. He nods.

Opening her purse she pulls a dagger out and lays it upon the table.

“What?â€? He mutters, eyes staring at the weapon. She is standing up from the booth, takes a final drag of her cigarette and turns to leave. He wants to yell but his mouth won’t open.

The doorbell goes off, he knows he will never see her again.