She was the assassin, not I. She had the goods for killing. Round deadly ammunition, soft red weapons, wet, and always, always cocked. But she was cocky. Not all hearts are meant to be broken. Not all men are toys. Boys are for toying. Men are for...

So there. She's dead. So what? Another cunt in life's gutter, won't be missed. Her sesame tinged tissue, her soy sauce saucer eyes, now, just china, all white china, won't be missed.

Her legs were powerful. Each blow crafted from her hips made me believe. She made me believe.

But I wasn't playing. Not that night. That night I authorized the young, vulnerable facet. To my, and her, if she could, dismay and regret.

Mighty outbursts did tresspass my paper-thin lips, my stone-cold soul. Yes, another sad fact. Yet another sin of mine...but, wait, what if...what if...what if she was telling the truth.

Oh my God.