The Woman Called Red

A day. Twenty four hours. One thousand four hundred and forty minutes. Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds. Just eighty six thousand three hundred ninety nine seconds left. I keep counting down as I reluctantly get ready. The colors are especially pretty today. The sky is painted red, as if someone had splattered it with blood. Most people don't see how pretty colors really are. It's a shame that they don't appreciate them more. Especially red.

A enchanting tale of an unexpected friendship between assassin and a botanist.