In the minutes before the blood spray coated the hats, he watched, silently. He could see her through the hat rack, talking, laughing. She was intensely unaware of him.
His heart pounded. His chest tightened. His breath thickened. Beads of sweat dripped down his face.
He dabbed his forehead, took a deep breath.
At that moment, everyone and everything disappeared. His focus was firmly fixed on her.
She was elegant, intoxicating, enchanting. So enchanting, in fact, that he didn’t notice the assassin creep up behind him, or hear the shot, or feel the bullet crack the back of his cranium.