åØåThe Man Who Loved FlowersAt Seven Seventy-third Street he stopped and turned left, he looked at his brand new watch a quarter to eight. The grey colour in his suit was turning dark, he saw at the sidewalk just across him a couple were having a small conversation. His breath started to change, and he took his hand into his pocket and in the meantime he looked carefully across the street. A sudden wind blew in, it just emphasized how the weather started to change. At left he looked quickly into a store, where the owner locked the door, and started to count the profit of a long days work. The streetlights started to shine.
Suddenly he took his hand away from his pocket and walked faster and even more focused than before now heading east to Queensborough bridge. 45 minutes later he stood at the bridge.
It was going to be his last murder or else he would get caught.
His feet started to shake a bit like they were knowing what to happen anyway his conscience was cold as ice. He screwed up his eyes his victim was just straight ahead just walking unaware of her future tragedy. He stopped her friendly "do you have a cigarette?" he said with his peculiar way of talking. "I'm a non smoker". She began to walk in her own stagde, then he pulled a knife and stabbed her twice in her back. He had almost 30 seconds to get rid of the body. He took her wallet, ring and threw her into a sack and tied it with wire. He threw her in the east river, and just right after he saw an almost empty bus passing by. The strong wind changed to a storm, he threw the flowers into the river not thinking of future possibilities, now he was heading home.
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