He’d noticed this strange girl some time ago. She would always come alone, buy a pair of white lace stockings, then leave. And she’d always wear a long black robe that never quite matched her purchases. She was strange and compelling.
He’d tie himself in knots trying to guess what she did. Was she a pole dancer? A prostitute? A fetishist? A Mother Theresa wannabe who enjoyed gifting orphans with stockings full of rock candy? She’d glide in and out, brandishing scythe and silence with aloof aplomb.
He closed the shop and followed her. No one ever saw him again.