A bullet for my valentine.

It was cold. Probably it was the first snowfall since I arrived to the city. A gloomy mist and snowflakes had covered the alley between the huge skyscrapers. Even the moon looked more pale and subtle behind the mist. And there she was, the glistening persona, who made me cross half the globe. But Alas!, gods do play dices with peoples destiny. And thus, inevitably, I was in front of her; high above the streets with buildings soaring as glass walls all around. looking at the moon, which was now looking as if it is about to bleed, I felt her tender arms move off my shoulder.

Before I could take my mind away from admiring her presence and the scenery, I felt a cold chill close to my forehead. It was the silencer of her pistol. She was looking like a divine beauty, firm and emotionless, prepared to obliterate my existence. Her eyes were fixed on mine; her lips quivered a bit. The cold breeze was waving her curled hairs, as I stand there perspiring and trying to believe in what has just happened.

I recalled the first time we met. She was now much more magnificent as she was back then. I had no reason to resist her desire, or maybe I was to accept, whatever she had for me. She grasped the pistol firmly and started to pull down slowly. I felt the cold tip of silencer cross my nose and slither across my lips. There was nothing as relief to me, neither did she looked a bit less resolute. Her pistol halted on my chest. I felt her gun had bumped something, the rose she so affectionately placed in my coat about an hour back. She must have felt my heart pounding, as she drifted the gun. She must have felt it earlier too, a while back, as she was sitting beside me; her head tilted on my shoulder, her hairs curled over my chest and as her warm fingers fiddled inside my coat. I looked at her fingers as they tightened on the trigger, still graceful and firm as ever.

I heard a damp thud followed by a slight crank. Probably a rib ruptured as gunshot penetrated across my chest. I felt nothing till I tried to touch the wound with my hand. Then there was pain, until I looked up to see her face. I had no words yet to admire her. She stood there watching me as I smiled at her and fell on her feet. I lifted my hand towards her, to find it soaked in blood; Bright red, just as the gown she was wearing and same as the moon which glanced across her. A chill went across my spine. I could barely see her face by now. She tilted down and pulled out the rose from my pocket, kissed it, and threw it back on me. Alas, It was too cold. Cold indeed.