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…

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