Words mean nothing. I am nothingness: Unimportant, vague, transparent, insignificant, invisible, of no value, lacking importance, until you name me.
Will I sing and dance for you? Will I tell you a story? Will I behave as you see me? Will I eat, sleep, walk, dream, breathe for you? Will I kill for you?
I exist, yet I am no one.
The bus arrives at the stop, a little earlier than usual, an omen. The women with the grey hair, trotting down the street, on time, yet late, an omen.
It would be her, no reason!
I am unseen.
Sitting on the bus, sitting behind the trotting, grey haired woman. Is she someone? Is she someone to someone?
I cough, cough louder, no one turns.
The grey haired trotting woman, stiffens her shoulders, an omen…
My knitting needle sits on top of my bag, drawing it as a blade of purpose, slicing into my insignificance, I plunge it into HER head.
Gasps of seeing. They all see, the bus stops, the grey haired woman slumps forward, but they all look at me, I am named, my word is Killer…