Morning

Memi was getting older, and she loved it. Wrinkles crept through the corners of her eyes, finger joints begged to stop bending every time she gripped the handle of her teapot, and the balls of her feet wept and ached as she shuffled around on hardwood floors, barefoot as always. Her husband often commented jokingly on her callused heels and toes, but lotions and files couldn't soften or scrape through the thick tough skin. Even if it was possible, Memi wouldn't appreciate it - soft heels were no guard against knobby stone walkways and woodchip-covered grounds.

She could remember the woodchips of her New England lawn, where they covered the roots of the oak tree in the front yard, and her brother used to chase her around that tree in games of tag. It was dead now, burned to black carbon in a fire that also claimed the family home. The whole lot then moved out west, where eventually, as her siblings grew old and found families of their own, they spread out north and south along the Pacific coast. Only Memi stayed behind in the original Western house, Her parents had long since passed away.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the curtains and smiled at the morning sun, ready for another old day.

One Page Stand

The clock on the nightstand shone "2:40" when she sat up, weary but restless. Beside her slept Jacob, his arms curled around his bare torso, his lips slightly ajar. His breathing was slow and gentle with a hint of mint breath spray and sweet sex.

Jacob, she thought, as she wiped a spot of semen off her lower hip. Such a divine name. Barely anyone has that name anymore. This world is too forsaken for it. She paused when her tongue tasted stale sperm on her teeth. Or forbidden, actually. Just as our little play was forbidden. Just as that aconite in your tea was forbidden...

Aconite. The bottle was still in her purse, empty. The killer was now doing its deadly duty within Jacob.

Sighing, she stood up cautiously, slipping on her panties and evening dress. My job is done. It's a pity, really. I was beginning to grow onto you, Jacob. For a night, you made feel more than just an assassin.

She smiled sheepishly. Or a sexually-deprived assassin, to be exact.

Silently, she left, leaving the aconite to its purpose.