Rushing, huffing at top speed without caring to look at the hustling vendors, the bustling crowd of the busy street.
The man was being followed since he stepped out of the bus. Was she an admirer, or a stalker; he questioning himself while running at a steady speed. The woman dressed in leather pants and silk shirt had a dagger holstered in the right side bottom jacket pocket, he remebered, that brewed a twisted churning feeling in the stomach rising from thoughts of death, frustration of helplessness and guilt ridden soul.
It was not long ago when he had met a woman to start a journey which his wife would call as an unfaithful one. Spent nights away from home and rich gifts had been known all along as he wasn't that good a liar. The short fling had turned into a torrid affair adding colors of pleasure ridden guilt on the adventure seeking canvass of his mind.
Little did he know the woman after him was a paid assassin and his death would be known as a crime of passion in pages of history.
