"So be it," Adam says as he looks at his reflection. He has one of those moments where he doesn't recognise himself. He feels like he is looking at a stranger.

 

His reflection shows no expression. No sign of happiness. How long ago was happiness? He can't remember. It's a distant memory. Along with all the other emotions. No anger, no desire, no envy.

 

"The green-eyed monster," he says, looking into his green eyes. "Windows to the soul." He thinks about when they first met.

 

She had said his eyes were the first thing she noticed about him. He told her in reply that it was her tits he'd first noticed, and they both laughed. He stares at his reflection as this memory flashes across the mind, and he thinks he sees the faintest twitch of a smile.

 

Adam slips into a crisp white shirt. He loves this shirt. French cuffs, grey ceramic buttons, pointed collar. The buttons feel heavy as he slips them through the holes. Adam feels like a million dollars in this shirt. Definitely a special occasion shirt. Dress for maximum impact. He slides the drawer out and runs his finger tips over his cufflinks. There is no choice to be made. It's a done deal. But he lingers anyway because they are so beautiful. All of his things are so beautiful.

 

Life is too short for ugliness. He takes the crimson cufflinks, round like drops of blood. He folds the cuffs back and threads them through and knows already which tie to wear. One thing leads to another, everything goes together. Coordination is the key. People forget the details. They think anything will do. They don't see the big picture. They are fucked up like that. They are so, so fucked up. Adam is not fucked up. See? Look - even the socks matter. To Adam, anyway. Those other fools... how often do they choose the wrong socks? They think the suit is all that matters, that no one notices details like the colour of the socks. So wrong. The big picture is made up of the smallest details. Why don't they get that? Why are they so fucking stupid?

 

Adam puts the pieces together, thinking that it's really quite out of his control. The accessories, they choose each other. He is going through the motions, the tie, the belt, the watch, the shoes. And soon he is complete. He stands before the full length mirror and looks at himself. He nods with approval. Sen-fucking-sational.

 

"You are one sharp fucker," he tells himself, indulging in a lop-sided smile. He turns slightly to one side, then the other. He practices a couple of poses, imagines her by his side. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

 

Adam sits alone and waits. He lets his mind wander into the past. He thinks about the laughter. God there was so much laughter. Tears of laughter. And tears of the other kind too, of course. But that's how it goes. You have your ups and downs, you get through the tough times. You forgive and you forget. Well you might forgive. The forgetting, well that's a little harder. You say you forget, but no one really forgets. You can try but there is always something to remind you. Always some little detail.

 

Adam feels his dick start to harden and realises he is thinking about fucking her. Jesus Christ, fucking her had to be the high point of his existence. That overwhelming feeling of... of gratitude that he was allowed to fuck her. He shakes his head at the memory. It was like fucking an angel. His own wet, slutty angel. God how she loved it, loved his hard cock, loved it when he flipped her roughly over and did her from behind God what he would give to fuck her now, to lift that gown right now and wrap her legs around his waist and fucking give it to her hard and rough...

 

It is with a great deal of effort that Adam resists the urge to relieve himself. He is a little disappointed in himself for even considering it. He forces himself to think about that piece of scum he'd had to deal with last week, thinks about how he'd done the world a favour. The look of surprise had almost made Adam laugh. Jesus, people could be so fucking stupid. Seriously - what did that sorry sack of shit think was going to happen? And as he thinks about this, about how it had felt to watch a life drain away, he feels his dick slowly, slowly lose its hardness.

 

The thoughts and memories morph and dance, and eventually it is time to go. Time to do the deed, to do what has to be done.

 

It didn't have to be like this, but it's what she wants and who is he to stand in her way? He thinks about her excitement as he walks back into the bedroom.

 

She will be laughing now. Such excitement and optimism in this hostile universe. She will not be thinking about their future together, but simply about her big day, about being queen for a day. He opens the drawer and caresses the cufflinks again. They are like eyes staring back at him.

"What were they thinking? How could they not see the pain? How could they delude themselves into thinking that I would just fucking well forgive and forget?" The level of delusion, Adam thinks with a shake of the head as he caresses the Glock, is breathtaking.

 

Standing in front of the mirror again, Adam knows this is where others would fuck up. They would choose a natural fibre, but he knows the leather jacket will support the weight. They won't suspect a thing, he thinks with satisfaction, they won't know what fucking hit them.