Monthly Archives: November 2015


He stood in line, impatiently taping his Stacy Adams against the marble floor. The bank was pretty crowded for a Thursday afternoon. He peered down at his wrist watch. Pure gold with a flawless diamond inside the face at the 12 spot. “1:47” he thought to himself angrily, “I’ve been in this same position behind this old woman for almost 10 minutes!” The teller smiled at the elderly woman who seemed to be having trouble understanding the new bank processes. “So, you’re saying swipe my card into this machine here?” the gingerly old woman said. Grey hairs flowed from her head like a river of wisdom. She understood the world in her time but technology made it increasingly more difficult for her to maneuver through it. She was frustrated with herself. She knew she was causing a hold up in the line, looking back behind her and noticing the scowl of a man behind her. He was tall, slim and handsome. He didn’t seem like one who was known for his patience. His gold trimmed glasses sat neatly across the bridge of his nose. His hair was cut low and tapered on the sides as he stood with his arms folded across his chest. The elderly lady turned back around to face the teller, “Maybe I should just come back later. I don’t mean to be causing a hold up.” The teller smiled at her, “No, ma’am. They can wait. You are not less important than anyone else in this line. You mind if I step around to help you?” “Oh, do you mind?” the elderly lady said with a sigh of relief. “My pleasure.” The teller stepped from behind the counter and approached the elderly woman. She noticed the tall, handsome man with the scowl on his face. She bit her tongue, holding in what she really wanted to say to him. She was a customer service specialist and she would not be rattled. “Sir” she said in the most pleasant way she could muster, “we will be with you shortly. Thank you for your patience.” “My patience?” he said with a snarl, “Look, I have places I need to be. I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time to be standin’ behind some woman who should be in a nursing home somewhere.” That hit a nerve with the teller. She took a deep breath, but nobody noticed. She had a way of calming herself in the midst of a storm, “Sir” she was able to speak out calmly, “I understand your frustration but please bear with us. Someone will assist you momentarily.” The security guard stepped closer to the front of the line after the commotion. He was just as tall as the impatient man but much more solid. He could handle him if it came to it and it was understood. The teller smiled and turned back to the elderly lady, “I’m sorry” she said to the teller. The teller immediately spoke after her, “Oh no, it’s not your fault” she said, then she bent down to whisper into the elderly woman’s ear, “it’s not your fault that the guy behind you is a jerk.” The elderly woman smiled and redirected the teller, “so, am I swiping this wrong or something?” The teller smiled. Her cheeks were pushed all the way up. “Let me see. Do you mind giving me your pin?” The elderly woman looked at the teller quizzically. The teller was a few inches taller than she was and shaped round like a pear. She had a little extra weight on her but she wore it well. After a brief stare down, the elderly woman spoke, “I suppose. I don’t think you would try any funny business with me.” The teller laughed, “of course not, ma’am. I’m not in a position to lose my job or be thrown in jail, trust me.” The impatient man huffed behind them, tapping his foot louder and becoming a nuisance to those around him. The elderly woman turned, looking over her shoulder but not directly at him. She said to the teller in a brittle voice, “You know, miss. We have to do our jobs, no matter what. No matter who comes in or what kind of attitude they give us, we have to do our job. We have to do what we were called to do. We are expected to do it and there is no excuse we can give our boss at the end of the day if we don’t. And you, my dear” the old woman tapped the teller on her arm, “are doing a mighty fine job. You’re already a gem and there is much more in store for you. You will be used greatly in this life and the life after.” The teller looked at her sardonically and swiped her card, entering her information. Before she could respond to the elderly woman, the man stormed out of the line. “I can’t believe this! I have a million things to do! Thousand dollar contracts to sign and I’ve sat here wasting the last 15 minutes of my life behind a woman who doesn’t even need to be running errands by herself!” The security guard stood tall as the man walked past him, quickly adverted his gaze away from the security guard once he realized he was being watched. He pushed the door open with force and indignantly unlocked the car door of his black BMW. Chrome wheels. Leather seats. He was paid and he didn’t have time to deal with anybody beneath him. He backed out of his parking spot and sped down to the end of the parking lot.

Inside the bank, the Teller couldn’t seem to get the elderly woman’s card to work. The elderly woman kept a smile on her face, “Let that card loose” she said, reaching her hand out for it, “Let me try another one.” The Teller, just as perplexed as the elderly woman was, handed the card back to her. The elderly woman fumbled it purposely, dropping it on the ground. “I’m sorry, sugar” she said as the teller reached down to pick it up. “No problem at all, ma’am”, the teller responded to her apologies. When she stood back up, a younger woman was now standing in front of her. They were the same height and build. “Thank you” the young woman said with a soft tone. The teller jumped back, “oh my God” she said, “what happened?” The young woman looked at her confused, “What do you mean?” she said. “The old lady. Where is the old lady?” she looked around the bank, double and triple checking the young woman that now stood in front of her. “Old lady?” the customer said, “What old lady are you talking about?” The teller put her hand on top of her head in amazement, “The old woman I was just sitting here talking to!” she said frantically, realizing the card she picked up was still in her hand. She looked at it, “Tamara Ross” she said, “that’s the elderly lady I was just talking with.” The younger woman gave her a side eye, “umm… my name is Tamara Ross” she said. “No way” the teller responded as her mouth hung open in bewilderment, “there was an older woman standing right here. Did you all see her?” The security guard approached them, “is everything alright?” he asked. “No” the teller said, “Where is the old woman that was standing right here?” The guard looked at her the same way the younger customer and everybody else in line was looking at her, “there was never an old woman standing here” he said. She held the card in her hand, looking simultaneously at the name and at the woman that now stood in front of her. She stood there stock still until Tamara touched her shoulder, “Ma’am” she said, “Can you try this card now?”

Outside, the impatient man sped down the streets, testing yellow lights for their longevity and crossing each one just as it was turning red. He mumbled to himself, still irritated about the time he wasted in line at the bank. He came to another light. It was yellow well before he could reach the intersection. It flicked red and he floored his BMW. He wasn’t stopping for anyone. Just then, a car drifted out into the intersection preparing to turn. They had the green light. The man hit his breaks and swerved out of her way. His car veered off the road as he hit the curb and headed straight for a flatbed truck. That’s when it happened. Everything seemed to slow down and instantly, before his front windshield came in contact with the flatbed truck, the elderly woman appeared and pushed him down inside of his car. Instantly after the contact, she vanished. He laid sideways across the front seats and time sped back up as he crashed into the flatbed. He laid there, hurt but still alive. The back of the flatbed truck was completely driven through the windshield and shards of glass were everywhere. Paramedics were on the scene moments later as they pried him out of his car with the Jaws of Life. In the ambulance, fading in and out of consciousness, he heard the paramedics speak, “Yeah, this guy was lucky. I don’t know how he was able to lay flat like that across the front seats with his seatbelt still attached, but if he was still sitting straight up, he would be on his way to the coroners right now.” The impatient man laid there, zoning out to the beeps of his heart monitor. The elderly woman appeared for a moment, oblivious to everyone except the impatient man. She smiled and was gone when he blinked his eyes.



His body was laid out on the cold cement in a vacant alley. Blood poured from his chest like water out of a broken faucet. He gasped for air, a freighting gargling sound of blood being caught in his esophagus as he tried to keep the breath in his lungs. Life fleeting from him fast, darkness approaching even faster, yet moving slower than it should. He reached up, grabbing for the imaginary hands of his mother that always felt just out of reach. The story of his life. But that’s when it happened. It was unreal. The blood began pouring back inside the bullet wounds in his chest. Amazing. The bullets flew out of his chest and the holes they made in his flesh and clothing closed up just as fast. He sprung to his knees, then to his feet and put his hands back up as if he was lifting the sky back to its original place. The slugs reassembled themselves as the bullets were sucked back into the smoking barrel of the .45 caliber clinched tightly in the killer’s hand. The scowl on his face was unforgiving. Lips locked tight. Scully down low on his head. He ran his hand forward over the top of the pistol, then backwards as the sound of the bullet being un-chambered echoed throughout the empty alley. He slid the pistol back into his waist band as his victim was talking like the tough guy he was. He had the appearance. 6’4″, 230 pounds. Tattoos on his neck and hands. He wasn’t afraid. You could tell by the way he spoke.

“Man, what you think is about to happen? You betta’ get on away from here before you wish you never came” he said to the killer. After all, he didn’t know what the man had really come to do. “Look” the killer said, “This ain’t about nothin’ else but my sister. You put yo’ hands on her like she was a man. I ain’t bout’ to let that slide”. He was much smaller. A real David and Goliath situation. He was only 5’8″, about 155 pounds soaking wet. Clean faced. He couldn’t grow a beard even though he tried repeatedly to keep up with the trend. He didn’t look like a fighter, nor a killer but I guess we all have that breaking point in us. The side of us that comes out when we are pushed beyond a limit we never even set for ourselves. Clearly, his line was drawn at his family. “Yo’ sister?” the victim laughed, “so what, you here to defend her honor? You here to tell me not to mess with yo’ sister anymore?” The victim laughed even harder. The cold Milwaukee air made his breath visible as he mocked the killer. Had he known what was in front of him, he would have taken a different approach. He calmed himself down. “Listen, I’ll tell you what lil’ man,” the killer hated when people called him that. The blood in his veins began to boil even more as the victim continued speaking, “i’ma let you walk away from here with all yo’ bones together and unharmed because I know you just tryin’ to protect yo’ sister and I actually can respect that. The little brother comin’ to help the big sister. It’s really a noble thing to do” he began to walk closer to his killer, “but i’ma tell you like this. You bring yo little self roun’ here again, you not gon’ make it back to where you came from, to aight?” The killer wasn’t budging. He stood tall, hands folded in front of him. He knew what he had on him. A pistol will give courage to the weakest man, however, the killer was not weak. He just knew his limits. “Oh, you hard of hearing?” The victim said, “Ok. I tried to give you an out but it seems you just want to be hard. You a tough dude? Ok. Show me how tough you are, lil’ man. Show me. Ima beat you worse than I did your sister.” The Victim began walking closer to the killer. The cold Milwaukee wind blew against the white cement. A chill that only those who have felt the cold-hearted nature of the city could understand. He was like a bull, slowly charging at his matador. As he walked closer and closer, the victim began to question himself. “Why is he not moving? Why is he not even preparing to defend himself?” He knew something was off but he kept moving towards him. The killer thought to himself, “Olay”. The bull would not touch him. He pulled the pistol out from beneath his waist and the victim stopped. His heart almost did as well but he played it off. He couldn’t let him see his nervousness. “Oh” he said, “you got a pistol, huh?” He laughed, more out of anxiety than humor, “I don’t even think you got the balls to use it. Hell, it weighs almost more than you.” He didn’t take him seriously as he continued walking towards the killer and that’s when he cocked the pistol. The victim stopped in his tracks and put his hands up in the air, looking around to see if anybody was near. He couldn’t scream. No. He was too tough for that. He was the bully his whole life and he made other people scream. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and the killer had already made up his mind. “You put yo’ hands on my sister for the last time.” The victim became remorseful. He didn’t take him as a joke anymore. He knew his life could be ended right now.

Inside the dark, black barrel of the gun he stared into, his mind flashed snapshots of missing pieces of his life like a slideshow. His father abusing his mother the few times he was around. His mother, in turn, taking out her frustrations on him. He saw it. He realized the reason he abused women. He saw it with his own eyes and it hit him all of a sudden. Tough men don’t cry, but he did. Tears fell out of his eyes, “you don’t understand” the victim said, “I… I didn’t want to be like this.” The killer had no sympathy. “Get on yo’ knees and apologize” the killer said, “apologize to my sister.” He looked around, “Where is she? I’ll do it right now.” He waived to her as she came from around the corner. The victim thought nobody was around, but she was the lookout. She had enough. She walked up to them. Her eye was swollen shut and as black as night. Her bottom lip hung down lower than it should have, swollen and cracked open. Her nose was disfigured. The victim was horrified by what he seen as if he didn’t see her when he left. As if he didn’t see her face the moment he walked out the apartment laughing at her. “You shouldn’t have been going through my phone” he yelled as he slammed the door closed. On his knees, he was still almost as tall as she was. “I’m, I’m sorry” he said to her as he tried to reach for her hand. She jerked back away from him and shook her head. “Sorry ain’t enough” she said. The words sealed his fate. The killer squeezed the trigger three times. The barrel exploded as the bullets came out of the smoke, striking the victim in his chest before he could think. He tipped over backwards like a chopped down oak tree and crashed into the cold cement. His head banged against it as his hands reached towards his chest and were immediately covered with blood. In a matter of moments, he was in a puddle as blood poured from his chest like water out of a broken faucet. He gasped for air, a freighting gargling sound of blood being caught in his esophagus. Life fleeting from him fast, darkness approaching even faster yet, moving slower than it should. He reached up, grabbing for the imaginary hands of his mother that always felt just out of reach. The story of his life.


She clinched two Barbie dolls in her hand as she played in her room. “No, I’ll cook tonight” she said, imitating a grown-up voice for one of the dolls. “Ok, girl” she said, imitating the voice of the darker Barbie before she placed her in her Barbie car. She heard yelling coming from outside her room, penetrating the thin walls that stood between her and her parents. She turned towards her door, looking momentarily at it, then turning back to her Barbie. 

        Above her on her wall, a picture that she drew of her, her mother, and her father hung effortlessly. It was a picture drawn the best way any four-year old could have done. Their bodies weren’t in perfect symmetry. Eyes were lopsided. Shoulders were disproportionate. Noses were placed on their faces much lower than they should have been. She stood inbetween her parents as she held their hands. Above them, she had drawn a heart and colored it blue as they stood in a grassy field with a house to their right. To the naked eye, it would be hard to look at but to anybody in that house, it was priceless. She drove her Barbie doll, making car noises in the midst of yelling and screaming from outside. She jumped when her mother’s voice hit high octaves, jerking her head towards the door. Her long ponytails swung to the right as she stopped, looking at the door waiting to her more voices so she would know everything was ok. Not literally because nothing was ok when they were arguing but she wanted to make sure no one was hurt. After her Father’s voice boomed, she turned around and continued driving the car. She had become accustomed to their frequent arguments. She learned to drown them out the best she could, submerging herself into her imagination. As the car rode across the carpet, one of her wheels rolled off. “Oh, no” she said, picking up the wheel and trying to put it back on herself. She couldn’t. She looked towards the door, the yelling still dominating any other noise in the house. Whenever she broke one of her toys before, she would always take them to her Dad. He fixed them, no matter what it was. Baby doll arms that had fallen off were surgically fixed. Vehicles were repaired. Doll houses were renovated. She knew it wouldn’t be a problem for him to put the wheel back on for her Barbie. She turned to look at the door. Fear struck her heart. She didn’t want to go out there but her imagination wouldn’t be able to save her if her Barbie couldn’t continue its ride to the grocery store for food. She determined it was too hot for her to walk to the store and back to the house with the groceries. She stood up, inching closer and closer to the door. The yells becoming louder with each step. She took a deep breath and slowly opened the bedroom door. The yelling was crystal clear. 

      “I don’t care! I don’t care what you tell me, this happens too much with you!” her voice was light but piercing. She was carrying emotional stress for a couple years in the marriage and they had only been married for four years. He cheated on her a year and a half ago and although some would consider the reason he did it to be justified, the scar it created on her hadn’t healed. “I told you” he said, “I was at the grocery store and she just happened to be there! We didn’t plan this purposely!” “Yeah, tell me anything! I should’ve known not to get back with you and try to work this out! You still the same dog you was back then! I don’t care how much you keep that bible laying around this house!” He shook his head and turned to look at the dishes that stacked up in the sink. On the marble countertop to the right sat a plate with food over a day old stuck to it. The marble countertops matched the cabinets and the floor. The kitchen itself was spacious, it was large enough to be a guest room and her voice echoed off the walls as he stood, drifting into his imagination. His daughter got it honestly. She quickly snapped him out of it, “You ain’t got nothing to say, huh?” her eyes watering. Her eyeliner was smearing. She reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him back around, “look at me!” He did.

He stared into her eyes searching for the woman he married. The woman he said, “I do” to at the altar. He saw glimpses of that day in his mind. Her white dress curved her body effortlessly. She had on very little make-up because she knew he didn’t like that. Truthfully, her beauty exceeded anything that Estee Lauder or Chanel had to offer. Hey eyes reflected his image as she stared back at him. He was everything she wanted physically. Tall, brown skin tone, athletic build and a smile that could get him anything he wanted. He finally spoke, “Look, I know I messed up before and I mean, I get that this is just a reaction from that.” She sucked her teeth and folded her arms as he continued, “I’m sorry and I was wrong for that. I’ve apologized a million times and I’ve done everything I could to get your trust back” she cut him off, “everything!? You call goin’ to the grocery store with another woman doing everything you can to gain my trust!?” He turned around and she grabbed his arm again but this time, he jerked away and his hand knocked a glass off the counter and it shattered onto the ground. The toy dropped out of their daughters hand simultaneously. They turned to look at her as she stood in the hallway, horrified and on the verge of tears. Her father rushed to her, “baby? Baby, what’s wrong?” He kneeled down to become eye-level with her. He took his hand and wiped the tears from her eyes before they fell. She was a splitting image of her mother. “Baby?” She sniffled and his heart broke. Her Mother came over to them. He picked his daughter up, grabbed her toy car and carried them into the front room. “Oh, you just gon’ walk away from me with my baby?” He kept going with her in his arms and sat down on the sectional. The front room carpet was white. Hard to believe with a young child in the home but she was well behaved. She was not allowed to eat, drink or walk in the front room with her shoes on and she heeded to it. They could count on one hand the number of times she had to be spanked for disobedience. Truthfully, they could not have raised a child any better. They were excellent parents but horrible spouses. “What is it baby?” he said to her as they sat on the couch. She was still trying to catch her breath. She was used to the arguing but actually seeing it? She had not warmed up to that side of things. He looked at her car and realized it was missing its wheel. It was clinched in her right hand. “Oh, your wheel feel off? Here, Daddy will fix it, ok?” She shook her head in agreement as she began calming down. He sat her on the couch and walked back into the kitchen past her mother. “We’re not done.” He kept a straight face and walked straight to the utility drawer in the kitchen. “I’m not arguing in front of her anymore.” He set the toy on the counter and searched the drawer for a screw driver. “I’m not either, but we gon’ talk about this.” He shuffled through the drawer, moving things around forcefully. “Ain’t nothing to talk about. You accusing me of somethin’ I know I didn’t do.” She slammed the drawer closed, almost smashing his finger in the process. He looked at her. His jawbones gyrating inside his mouth. “What were you doing with her at the store?” She said with locked lips. He shook his head and moved her out the way, opening the next drawer to find the screwdriver. Their daughter sat in the front room. She was completely calm now. She knew they were still arguing but they weren’t loud. She could barely hear them but now, she was bored. She had nothing to busy her imagination so she got up and began wandering. She looked for the remote to the television but it was too high up on the fireplace. She was smart though. She walked over and grabbed a small stepping chair from the hallway by the front door and placed it in front of the fire place. She stood on it and her eyes lit up. She looked around the room and felt what it was like to be a foot taller. She smiled and turned back towards the fire place. She grabbed the remote, knocking a finger nail clipper onto the floor. The silver shined like a new toy on the white carpet. She thought to put it back but that is all it was. She picked it up and placed the stepping chair back into the hallway. As she walked back, she noticed it and smiled. “That looks like a mouth and two eyes” she said to herself. She sat down next to the wall and folded her legs, scooting as close to it as she could. By then, her parents increased their voices. They were back to arguing as they were when she was in her room but her imagination kicked it and she began fading away from reality. “How are you doing?” she said to her new friend. “I’m fine” she made a boy’s voice, “I’m just hungry.” “Oh? You are?” she looked down in her hand at her new toy. “Well, I can feed you.” She took the fingernail clipper and tried to put it in her friend’s mouth. He didn’t move. “Oh, I’m sorry. It can’t fit in your mouth” she said. She looked at her new toy and played with it until she opened it up. She slid the fingernail file out from its place. “This might work” she said as she placed food onto her makeshift fork. “Open wide” she said. In the kitchen, the toy sat on the counter with the wheel right next to it. The couple moved away from it and the Dad completely forgot the reason he went to the kitchen in the first place. They were focused on the argument at hand. It took precedence over anything else that was needed at that moment. “Look! I’m not gonna tell you again! I wasn’t up there with that woman and I haven’t cheated or did anything wrong to you since I did a year and a half ago!” She got in his face. Her breasts bumped the bottom of his pectorals as she extended her finger towards the front of his forehead, “And that is what I’m talking about! It shouldn’t have never happened in the first place! Now you at a store with some chick and you expect me to believe its all a coincidence!? How stupid do you think I am!? You think I’ma just let this go and not pay attention to the things that really matter?!” The irony. Just then, there was a loud buzz followed by flickering lights in the kitchen. The couple looked at the lights, then at each other. “Oh my God! Lanette!” The mother moved past the husband and rushed into the front room, he was inches behind her. Their daughter laid out on her back next to the front door. She picked her up off the floor, “Lanette! Baby, please! Lanette!” The husband hoovered over them and bent down, “Baby, you ok!? Lanette! Oh my God, Lanette what’s wrong!?” He looked at the ground next to the socket and saw the fingernail clipper. Tears fell out his eyes without remorse as he pulled his phone out his pocket, hands shaking as he dialed the 9-1-1. “Hello!? Hello, yes, my daughter has just been electrocuted! Please come! Oh my God, I don’t want my baby to die” “What’s your address?” the operator said. He struggled to make it out, “Baby… baby, what’s our address?!” She gave it to him as she sat on the floor, rocking her baby and clinching her tight as her tears streamed out of her eyes even more. “I’m sorry” she said to her daughter as she rocked her, “I’m so sorry.”


He stepped into the building. The rain dripped off the rim of his hat making a small puddle beneath him. The door closed behind him on its own. He stood tall, his dark trench coat drenched in rain. His hat covering his eyes making himself appear even more mysterious as he stood there in the middle of the hallway. Nobody paid attention to him. Two officers walked towards him in the middle of a conversation of their own,

“So I says to him, I says ‘no way in hell I’m taking the bait’ then you know what the guy says to me?”

The slim, white man answered his short, round accomplice,

“What did he say to ya?”

“He says, ‘well, I took the bait already and your wife loved it'”

“What? I’da punched him square in the face!”

“Boy, I tell ya! If Sarg wasn’t there, I woulda done it! I sure woulda done it!”
The two, finally noticing him, stopped in front of the man as he stood. Motionless, silently waiting for someone to address him. The two officers looked between each other, then at the tall, mysterious man.
“Uh, can we help you, sir?”
Lighting lit up the sky, illuminating his face momentarily. Thunder boomed seconds later. He spoke in a deep, sonorous voice.
“I need the homicide department”
“Homicide?”, the short round officer said

“and what’s the reason for that?”

“There’s been a murder”
The Lightning lit up the sky again, illuminating the pistol he had tucked in his coat and the shotgun clinched inside his sleeve.
“Alright buddy, hands in the air! Right now!” said the tall officer, drawing his pistol out. The other officer soon followed and instantly, the whole building was alerted and flocked to the commotion, drawing their weapons as well. The man stood still, looking back and forth between all of the officers as the rain beat violently against the building. He didn’t move.
“Hands up or we will blow your freakin head off your shoulders!”

“Give me a reason! Just give me a reason why don’t ya!” The short round officer chimed in, the gun in his hand shaking but barely noticeable. The Sargent entered into the hallway. He stood a few feet in front of the man. They were almost the same height, the sergeant was a few inches shorter. Both had the same build. Broad shoulders, wide chest, made more like a linebacker than anything else. He was ready to wrestle him if need be,

“There won’t be no dead bodies in this precinct. Not on my watch! Sir, remove the weapons and sit them down in front of ya”, his southern accent was as thick as molasses.
The precinct was in suspense. Some officers began to sweat, others looked around under the influence of other officers actions. You could tell who were the leaders and followers. The man finally began to move. The click-clack sound of revolver hammers being pulled echoed. More hands began to shake. Thunder ensued. The man paused, seemingly making eye contact with all the officers at once.
“Slowly!”, the sergeant billowed. The man obliged. Lighting illuminated his face again. He was as dark as the clouds behind him. Slick, shiny skin like patten leather and smooth to the touch. The guns made a thud as he dropped them.
“Alright boys! Cuff him!” Said the sergeant. The officers rushed to him. Momentarily, the crises was adverted.

He sat in the interrogation room, the officers peered at him behind the double sided glass as if he was a zoo animal. Examining him with their eyes, drawing their own conclusions and surmising every negative thing that could have happened to bring him here.
Inside the small room, he was handcuffed to a table with one chair across from him, awaiting for the detectives to come in. He leaned his head down, slowly inhaling and exhaling. What he did, he had no choice but to do. Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Not a man’s walk tho, no, this was too seductive. This was too delicate. Stilettos, not Stacy Adams. He glanced up and she spoke, more of a smirk than a smile. He sat back in his chair and peered outside the double sided glass. He knew the officers were there. He had been in rooms like this before. He glanced at the door, it hadn’t moved since he sat down in the room over an hour ago.
“So, here we are. Again”, she said, running her manicured fingertips across the table.

“Here we are.”

“Awww, you don’t seem.. Excited to see me. What’s wrong, baby?”
He squinted his eyes, looking back and forth between the glass and the woman, wondering if the officers saw what he did. To the officers, he had began speaking to himself. They grew silent and were intrigued even more,

“Hey, hey sarg, you gotta come see this. This guy.. He’s losin it.”
“You just can’t leave me alone, can you?” He said to the woman.

“No no nooo, I can’t. You see, you’ve got something… I need. Something I crave.” She stood up and began walking towards him, switching every bit of her behind as she took each step.

“Something”, she ran her fingers across his shoulders, stopping to whisper on his ear, “I would kill for. Something I already have killed for. Power. Unmatched power.”

He jerked away from her. The police officers were completely perplexed, yet, they could not stop watching.

“We may need the shrink on this one, boys” the Sargent said as they watched on.
“Oh, come on!” She pushed his head away and she moved from him.

“You know how great we would be together. Picture, me, with my intelligence. You, with your power. We would be perfect together, can’t you see?”

“I killed you.”
She stopped, shooting a sinister gaze at him from across the table, then quickly switching into a menacing smile,

“You foolish man, you know you cannot kill a spirit. I will live forever. I seek kings and I what I seek, I receive. You will be no different”

“I will never give into you!”

He tried to stand up, but the cuffs jerked him back down into his seat. The officers were startled and jumped into action, running into the room.

“What is the meaning of this?!”, the Sargent spoke. The man rubbed his wrist. The woman smiled as they all stood in the room. He looked into their souls, a cold hard stare that would’ve shaken a statue, hung his head back down, and said nothing.