He had to have her. It was as simple as that. Consumed by her beauty, he thought of nothing else for days on end. He forgot to sleep, eat - even to wash - and spent his time devouring her image and planning their time together.
He
arranged his courtship with military precision. The accidental brush against her in the coffee shop, a
contrite offer to replace her spilt drink, some light-hearted banter followed
by a coincidental meeting at the theatre later in the week. Then, a lunch or two at the tennis
club, the occasional film or gallery opening and, finally, an intimate dinner,
cooked to perfection at the best restaurant in the city.
It
was a faultless campaign, but their time together always ended on her
doorstep. She did not
invite him across her threshold, nor could he lure her into his lair. Always, always, he was kept at a
distance. What was the matter with
her?
Then
one day, and then another, he saw her with someone else. He could not believe his eyes. Such betrayal, and with someone so
unworthy of her, so unworthy of taking his place. Long-haired and unkempt, what could such a foul creature
offer her that he could not? He, who
was so much more deserving?
Consumed with rage, he planned his revenge as meticulously as he had
planned his wooing.
The
attack was swift and deadly; a dark street, a powerful car and he was gone from
the scene without being noticed.
Day after day, he watched as the people came and went to her apartment;
the police, friends, the funeral undertakers. He forgot to sleep, eat - even to wash - and spent his time planning how he would comfort her and devour her
with his love.
Copyright © Carol Caffrey.
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