Slowly sliding back into the present, Mural watched the woman’s black hair sway as he continued to finger his knife. Stealing away from the fire lit soiled streets, the woman rounded a corner and turned down a shaded alley. All the grit and grime disappeared in the dark and he felt comfortable, almost clean, as he brandished the knife to end all of her whispering lies. But she disappeared. She must have noticed something, catched some glimpse of him, but the lane was short and he still heard her whispers.

“God, not again,” Mural thought.

Her indiscernible lust was heavy in the air, surrounding his ears. He searched with his eyes until he found her in a leaden block of shadows. He turned and smiled.

“Nice try, but you will not fool me again,” Mural said.

She sulked into the half-light and showed her face and the whispers changed. Sounds morphed together into a pale face and shock took Mural, as familiar eyes connected with his.

“Another memory, she has to be.” He squinted and shook, almost not recognizing her. “Veronica?”

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