No Cure for Love
“He stopped at a red light. His chest felt tight and his breath was coming in sharp, rapid gasps. Hanging from the rear-view mirror was his talisman, a small framed icon of Sarah/Sally. She was naked from the waist up, her small breasts firm and rounded, thrust forward like the figurehead of a ship. And she was smiling at him.
The light changed and the car behind him honked its horn. A wave of anger swept through him and for a moment he felt like . . . but no. He knew he had to keep control; he ...mustn’t give in to blind rage. This was for Sally.
Slowly, he edged down the throbbing Boulevard. From store windows, mannequins followed him with their gaze; crowds wandered from bar to bar, oblivious to him. But that would soon change.
Finally, he found the stretch he had been looking for. A place where the pickings would be easy. It didn’t matter who the victim was, only what. Like a cat, he thought. Does a cat really care which bird it captures? Doesn’t one pigeon look just like another?MoreLess
The light changed and the car behind him honked its horn. A wave of anger swept through him and for a moment he felt like . . . but no. He knew he had to keep control; he ...mustn’t give in to blind rage. This was for Sally.
Slowly, he edged down the throbbing Boulevard. From store windows, mannequins followed him with their gaze; crowds wandered from bar to bar, oblivious to him. But that would soon change.
Finally, he found the stretch he had been looking for. A place where the pickings would be easy. It didn’t matter who the victim was, only what. Like a cat, he thought. Does a cat really care which bird it captures? Doesn’t one pigeon look just like another?MoreLess
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