Minunderstanding Stories

a story about a writer and an assassin ° ° ° "hmm? what is it love?" "hey babe, do you think an icycle could kill someone and leave no traces because its ice and it melts?" i ponder while looking out the snow covered world outside the glass. "good question, well- Oh im late for work! ill discuss that with you later beautifull" he says quickly scampering out of the dining room and onto the door. "Darling? remember your question this morning? sadly it doesnt work, it requires too much force for it to penetrate and it might break and impale you as well" he says a smudge of dark red paint on his cheek, a sad smile gracing his lips, as if hes done an it failed.