Promises of Sin
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.