Before
BeforeA clear motive is what I was looking for. In hindsight, I realize it is ridiculous. Often, you can’t assign a reason to irrational acts. Oddly enough, she expected me to feel sorry for her. I didn’t. Serves her right, what happened. Minus the blood. That part I do regret. I hate blood. I hate Houston. I hate that I was sent there. Even one day is too much to spend in that trash receptacle they call a city. And I really don’t like hotels, or sidewalks outside of hotels. Or, for that matter, people.
She was just one among many I happened upon that day, head down, oblivious, in a rush. All of them the same in their incessant hurrying from one place to another, so unoriginal. Like insects scurrying about. Like cockroaches when you turn on the light. Don’t mess with them, Aunt Je
