Henderson: A Short Story

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Everyone knows that the key to getting away with me is that make as little mess as possible. The woman stood over the body of the now late Mr. Henderson. The man was splayed across the floor in a manner not unlike a broken child's toy. The only hint that she had just committed a crime being that her long slender fingers coiled tightly around the hilt of a wicked looking knife, clutching it like a snake onto prey. "This needs to stop." Room dropping my now considerably heavier head into my hands. She ignored me, regarding her appearance in the mirror and patting nonexistent stray hairs back into her severe up-do. She was flawless- just like the clearly unprovoked first degree murder. She couldn't have chosen a better place; the tiled…show more content…
I could change her. We danced without music to get lost in; we had each other for that. Swaying cheek to cheek as our feet stepped in time with one another to a beat that existed only in our minds I murmured, "What is he worth?" "More than a couple million," she grinned. I didn't see her smile rather than I felt it against my cheek. "How'd he make it?" "Gangs, cartels, trafficking, d all of the above." I tensed. "They'll come for you, when they find out he's dead they'll come." She shrugged not a care in the world. "Let's get out of here- we'll run." Her eyebrows rose at the word we and I flinched, "Then let's drive fast so no one will ever catch us." A smile danced across my face. "Together? Really?" "Just check on the poor guy once before we leave, it'll break his heart that I'm making my escape with you." God she was perfect. I nodded once and stepped toward the bathroom. I staggered to a shaky stop, and it wasn't because of the rank, stale air that stayed in the bathroom. It didn't see real as I battled my way out of a haze. Mr. Henderson say propped up against the bathrobe, clutching his

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