The Girl with the Pink Shoes

            Her movements were so fluid, the silk on her shoes reflected the sun making them blinding to look at.  Something about her felt sickly familiar, yet I couldn't quite grasp what. I studied her every movement, from the way she bounced right before she went on point to the way she blushed, and tucked an invisible piece of hair behind her ear when the people applauded.

I found my heart racing in anticipation as her eyes lit up at the start of the song and when the end of the song by the end of it she had a smile as bright as the sun.  I must have stayed there for at least an hour until she was done, I walked up, dropped a few dollars in an upturned hat and winked, whistling a short melodic tune, I turned away and headed back up the street.  She can’t say I never warned her, I had given her my song she had been warned and I had my next target. 

            Now most associate spontaneous murders as ‘an act of passion’ well I must say that I disagree entirely.  All my acts of suicidal murders are dripping with passion but they are always well planned, and thought out, there is nothing spontaneous about them.  But passion never came without a little sweat.  Murders take a lot of planning and for that it requires a lot of research which is why the internet is by far one of the most wonderful inventions; it definitely makes my career easier. It did not take long to find out almost everything I wanted to know about my street dancer; Coritha lee Johnson, a fitted name for a beauty such as herself, a fitted name for a victim.