A strange story.

The only sign of movement in that street was the swirling smoke from his cigarette. It faintly rebelled against the pitch darkness of the street, writing undecipherable messages to the air. Nathan stood with inanimate stillness, clad in black from head to toe. The queer quietness added to the impossibility of a car having driven through this street just few minutes ago.

It had been a strange visit. Stranger than all the previous visits- and there had been many- made by this phantom of a car. He never saw the driver, didn’t even know if the driver was a male or a female or a freaking robot. The electronic voice only gave him instructions and drove away. No questions asked. It had always been like this. Except today.

He got no name of the target, no picture. Just an age and the gender.

“26 year old female, 22:45 at Gespo Diner,” the mechanic voice told him from inside tinted windows. “You have only one chance.” As always. Nathan had waited to receive the usual small squared photograph but got none.

“How am I supposed to recognize her?” He called as the car began to pull out. The car slowed down long enough for the driver to answer and Nathan, to his surprise, thought he heard the slightest hint of amusement in the robotic voice, “Oh, you will know.”

Nathan checked his wrist watch as he threw away his cigarette. It was 10:30 and it was time for execution. He set out in to the street, intrigued by the task ahead. Walking towards the target location he thought how his victim was as unaware of her death as he was of her. He did not know if this thought held any deeper meaning for him but it lingered in his mind like the smoke in the air that remained through smell if not sight.

He entered the Gespo Diner to a mixture of noises; chattering of people, clink of cutlery, dragging of chairs and old country music. It was a bright circular room with low hanging lights, low sofas against the walls and high stools in the middle. He chose a seat in the corner, his companion lit and burning between his fingers.

A few minutes of expert observation, he scanned the room to narrow down suspects. Suspects? Odd, he thought, was he talking policeman now? He looked around at the girls, observing each one.

A group of girls sat in the corner adjacent to him, giggling away at some girlish secrets they seemed to be discussing. He watched them intently, seeking out a worthy target. There was something common in this whole group; all girls were followers. They looked like hesitant dreams, unconfident smiles and fading ambitions. One of them even looked at him; a look that needed validation. No, it was none of them.

A pretty brunette stood behind the bar counter, chatting up customers and serving drinks. Her body language was provocative as hell with curves in all the right places and all the right volumes. He would have put a bullet through her but something told him she was too cliched to be such a special target. Her suggestive smile and perfect eyes made her seem too real; she could never belong to a story.

He took a slow and long drag of his Marlboro, closed his eyes and raised his face to savor the moment. It was then that he heard her, the pitch of her voice syncing with the rhythm of his heart. Could anyone understand the love of a hunter for his kill? He delayed opening his eyes, resisting the need to find out what she looked like, fighting the battle of wondering what she would look like lifeless. Beyond hugs, warmth and sex there lay a love so purely cold that it was painful.

The look of her punched through his system like a potent drug, drowning out all other people. Head full of red hair, sinuous curls that went down to the waist. Green eyes that lit up the whole damn world and gave it energy. The sexy mole just above her lip contradicted with the innocence of her face. The mystery of her scent was enough to overwhelm him. She was perfect, she was the one, she was the only one he wanted to kill. He looked at her till he felt nauseous with pain; this pain of knowing that she would soon no longer exist coupled with the ecstasy of knowing that he would be her end. He was never sure if he loved his targets enough to be able to kill them, he was waiting to know if she would die.

Quietly, he walked towards the door of the diner, about to leave. He turned around for one last look and found her looking at him. The cold filled his body up to his extremities, extending out to her as the last bit of warmth in her eyes died away. He loved her so much.