An Unfortunate Match

Part 2 ~ Linda Barnes

Bang.

I've always liked the sound of a gun.

Guns look intimidating. They sound violent and they're effective.

But strangely, I found the absence of noise after a shot to be peaceful.

I think that's why it's my weapon of choice.

Pistols are even better. Easy to carry, simple to disguise.

I bought my pistol for protection two years ago. A weapon to use if I ever needed to fight for my life against someone.

But I must confess.

After shooting it, I thought about what it would feel like to kill someone.

Tinder is a great little app. Perfect way to find a potential victim.

Ever since I matched with Lewis Grady, I knew he was the one.

I said I liked flowers. He said he'd buy me roses.

I said I liked steak. He said he'd take me on a steakhouse date.

I said I lived just out of town. He said he'd drive to meet me.

It was so easy with him. He fell for it all.

We were on a dirt road. Middle of nowhere. Trees either side.

Suddenly, in a shocking turn of events, I started to feel sick.

Lewis Grady, being a true gentleman, pulled over to let me out. He could've stopped there but he didn't.

He got out of the vehicle to check on me. Rubbed my back, slowly.

I felt something metal touch my skin as he comforted me. It was attractive that he wore rings.

Alas, that was too much contact for me. It was now or never my beautiful pistol.

See, but here's the surprising thing.

As Lewis Grady slid lifelessly down the side of his car, I noticed he had brought a lovely little hunting knife to our date. A pathetic one really but it got me thinking.

Why on earth did he bring it? Was it for the steak? Was it for me? A present perhaps?

What kind of psycho gifts someone a hunting knife? On a first date?

Lewis Grady must've been a strange member of society.

Upon reflection, I think I did the world a favour by disposing of him.

I should be granted an award or something. A medal. Or at least an honorary mention.

Maybe I should take his knife as my trophy. Put it in a frame and hang it up on my wall.

I could take his car but the police would surely catch me so it wouldn't be the smartest move.

So much choice.

Then again I suppose his corpse is a reward in itself. He was my victim. My perfect foolish victim.

He fuelled my fantasy.

Not fulfilled, but...fuelled.

Tomorrow I'll make my return to Tinder.

I'll swipe right, match, message and then most likely, do this all again to another poor unsuspecting gentleman.

I'm sure there's a lesson in here somewhere, though I'm not sure what. I'll leave you to figure that one out.

Oh and if you see a harmless, delicate and inviting lady on your profile, swipe right.

I'm easily pleased.