Futile Trials

(29) Follow the Man

Clamping the cigarette between your lips, you skip down the alley to where you had originally seen the two men. 

You eagerly round the corner, not wanting to lose the man, but you wouldn't have lost him. 

He was waiting; waiting to see if you would follow... He didn't want to be followed.

He didn't avoid your alley because you were intimidating, draped threateningly against the brick. He avoided it because he didn't want to be seen.

But now you've seen him, and it's the last thing you will see. He was waiting for you, his knife in hand. He didn't want you to follow, because he didn't want to kill you.

But he wasn't going to hesitate should you follow. 

And you did.

The cigarette drops from your parted lips, not a sound carried on the air that escapes your mouth.

You're gasping for air on the tip of his blade. Those are the last breaths you take.

He withdraws the blade and tucks it somehwere within the folds of his trench coat. The still smoking cigarette, burning inches from your face, is stamped out by his heel. 

You're still alive when he begins to walk away, but by the time he is out of sight, your heart no longer beats. 

Game Over