A glint of light off metal caught my eye. I stopped to inspect a pair of knives.

I’ll probably need these. Placing them in my cart, I consulted my list of things I’d need as a full-time maid. Kitchen knives were not included, but something told me they’d come in handy.

Feather duster, check. Mop, check. Ammonia, check. Hydrogen peroxide, check.

A little girl ran down the aisle, beaming at me. “Hi, I’m a butterfly!” she exclaimed, flapping her arms.

“Don’t bother the nice lady,” her mother scolded. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. She’s cute,” I said, patting her head.

As they left, I wondered momentarily if I was once that little girl. I’ve got everything, I thought then, checking the list. I turned the sheet, forgetting that I’d written the list on the back.

On the front were my orders. A man just so happened to be in need of a maid, and just so happened to be targeted by my employer. I smiled to myself.

So many ways to kill a man. I couldn’t help a chuckle. Yes, I was once that little girl.

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