I unsheathed my sword. After months of Francine’s crude, illiterate taunting down at the Grounde Coffee Shoppe, this would be gratifying. Now she would see. The taunting would end. She lay defenseless behind me.

I could hear sounds of the evening outside as Newark revelers strolled by. I should be out there, with them, but no. I turned and strode to her.

“Oh my God,” she gasped at the sight of my shiny weapon, “it’s so…”

I smiled cruelly. Her eyes pleaded.

I impaled her. My sword slid smoothly in and sunk to the hilt. She yelled something, then the life went out of her.

It was over quickly. Silence followed.

“Is that all you got speedy,” she shoved me off her. “Jeez, even if I’da charged by the second, I would’na made nothin’. And I’da charged double if I’d knew all you was gonna do was tickle me with that gherkin. Fetch me my smokes. I knew you was a waste of time, Orson, I knew it. And they’re gonna hear about this down at the Grounde, too. Ohh, they are gonna hear about this. Leave the money on the table by the door on your way out.”