Little red

I watch her eyes as she looks at me, a combination of revulsion, fear, and hatred. She thinks I can’t see it, silly girl. Too easy this, she showed her hand at the bar, came over to me at my usual table, bright red hair, red sweatshirt, jeans that were either vulgar or perfect depending on your preferences. All laughter, smiles and brightness; she conceals her hatred poorly.

She invites herself up to my apartment, places her arms around my neck as we reach my door, she flinches subtly when I smile and fear flickers in her eyes, she presses on though and I’m suitably impressed. I leave her in the living room and excuse myself to change.

She has a gun pointed at my face as I re-enter the room, she starts talking about a sister or friend, something meaningless I have done. I laugh and she cringes, pulls the trigger, is surprised when the gun doesn’t go off, my gun has it’s safety removed and I do not suffer the same problem.

Silly girl, everyone knows red riding hood gets eaten, and no woodsman here.

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