Light filtered in through her window. It fell on her face like a golden veil. She looked so peaceful. Her yellow hair, made gold in the sunlight, encircled her head like a halo. Just then her eyes fluttered open. She looked around in a sleepy daze. She yawned and looked at the clock on her bedside table. She was late again. She didn't care though. She slid out of bed rather un-attractively and made her way over to the bathroom to take a shower. Then she went to her closet. She pulled out a red satin dress with a slit down the side and a plunging scoop-neck. Then she put on a pair of patent leather, cherry red high heels. She brushed her hair to near perfection, put on her makeup, grabbed her black Prada bag off the back of a chair and left.
The harsh buzzing of the alarm clock on the windowsill woke him. A small smile came to his face. Then he sat up abruptly in his bed and got to his feet. He took out a composition notebook from under his pillow and flipped through the pages of sketches and notes. Then he went to take a shower in his small, cramped bathroom. Afterwards, he put on his dark grey cargo pants, a black T-shirt, a black hooded sweatshirt and pulled a black ski mask over his face. He pulled out a pair of heavy, military steel toes and put them on. Then he went to his kitchen cupboard and took a handgun off the top shelf, loaded it and left.
Full story available in Midnight Diner.