She tapped her foot; smoking and waiting. Nervously glancing about the room.
Peter watched her from the bar – wary, patient.
Her pulchritude beckoned,
pulled him to her.
They locked eyes and he glimpsed her tortured soul.
Entranced, he stood to go to her,
sensing that she already knew who he was.
The window cracked when the bullet passed thru,
audibly leaving the tracks of a spider web in its wake.
She dropped and was gone; long before chancing to realize her own mortality.
Peter slipped the envelope back into his jacket pocket and turned away,
looking for a back door.