Behind those Eyes

Chapter 1

I sit in my usual spot at the restaurant. On a bar stool with a silk covering. I hold a glass of whiskey in my hand, the ice slowly melting away and diluting the drink with its neutral properties. I take a sip. Luckily the drink is still cold. I hate warm whiskey.

I look around the room at all of the oblivious people. I have a knife concealed under my black silk waistcoat. I spot my prey. A tall man stands on the balcony with a burning cigarette between his index and middle finger. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I watch as the smoke escaped from his mouth, as the smoke dances in the air.

I stand up from my stool. I take the final sip of my whiskey, the thin, cold liquid runs down my throat. Its bitter taste stripped the grief from my mind. The last of the clear brown drink leaves the glass, the rim of the glass still pressed to my lips. I set the glass down on the bar top alongside a wad of £20 notes, way over tipped, but that's my choice.

I take a few steps towards the balcony door.