Niki picked up her bag, looked for her glasses, decided she didn't need them - then slowly wafted out of the unit on the wings of three glasses of red wine.

The late night air was a little cooler than expected, and she thought for a moment to go back for a coat. But the only coat she had packed was long and unattractive, and for this evening she needed to flaunt her shapely body and long tapered legs, Anger bubbled inside her, trapped in a cocoon of self-pity. Where was Tony?

She had intended to surprise him with an unexpected sensual and provocative liaison, as an acknowledgement that he had been working so hard.

"I've got a late night meeting in the city tonight hon, then an early one tomorrow morning. I think I'll stay on at the apartment tonight", he had said nonchalantly.

She had been disappointed of course. She didn't like it when he was away. But then he had added: "Come into town on Wednesday afternoon, and we'll go to a show."

But being full of love for him, and missing him, on Tuesday evening, she had taken the late train from the suburbs.

It was a little scary, as she rarely travelled at night. The usual late-night hoons were on the train, shouting to each other, running up and down the aisles, revelling in their supremacy of the night and the boxed-in confinement of the few trapped passengers who could do little else than stare straight ahead, pretending they saw and heard nothing.

Grateful to have completed the journey without skirmish, it was close to midnight when she had arrived at the small unit in town, expecting to find him sleeping soundly in the queen-sized bed. But the bed and apartment had been empty.

At first Niki had been worried. Maybe Tony had experienced the same night-time travellers somewhere en-route from the office. But being a man, he would have defended himself, and his honour, against the loutish behaviour encountered.

Then she had thought again. It had to be a woman. With Tony it was always a women.

Fear gave way to anger. Fear was always close. But with the conviction she had been replaced, it became enmeshed with the anger. And therefore it became stronger.

As she began walking along the unfamiliar streets, Niki studied her reflection critically in an unlit shop window. Even though the glass was not wholly kind, she liked what she saw. A slim body topped by a pretty face, crowned with luxuriant auburn hair.

She was not the only one to approve the image. A large set man reeking of alcohol and cigarettes approached her tentatively, and whispered a proposition that was insultingly low.

She turned on him savagely, allowing herself the luxury of normally unspoken expletives. It helped unleash the rage that infused her. Surprised at her venom, the stranger slunk off into the night more wary than before.

Drowsy from the lateness of the hour and the wine, Niki became conscious of a dull throb in her temples. Lights from oncoming traffic merged with the neon promotions of a hundred restaurants and her steps faltered. She took off the stilettos' to ease her cramped feet, but was instantly challenged by the deep cold from the pavement. It seemed to pierce through her like a knife.

The icy wind whipped into her lightly clad body and she looked for shelter. As if from nowhere, the yawning subway drew her in a beckoning embrace. She faltered down the steps, carefully holding the handrails that led her into the depths of the city that was beginning to look and feel so alien. Immediately, the smells of the basement squalor scrambled her senses into a nauseous ball.

Scattered about she could see night lovers, entwined with each other, waiting for trains that would take them to rooms of anticipated pleasure. She felt loving, but unloved.

Not sure what to do or where to go, Niki made her way to the coffee vending machine which promised, at least, some fragmentary liquid warmth. But hampered by the shoes, the low light and without glasses, she found it hard to direct her cold fingers to find the right money. Coins spilled around her in a tinkling flow of small change. She bent to pick them up but her head was pounding with all the combinations of loneliness. The wine, the cold, the smells - all bombarded her frail, fevered body. She felt herself falling onto the hard dirty cement. Ungainly - unlovely.

She looked around. Once more a deep-seated sense of betrayal and loneliness engulfed her as she realised the couples around her were not only unaware of their surroundings but also of her, and her clumsy actions. Anger swelled up yet again. How dare they not see her? How dare they ignore her?

It was then that she saw Tony. Even in the gloom of the tunnel, he looked tall and handsome. His white teeth gleamed in the eerie light of the subway as he laughed at a comment made by his partner. Yes, it was a woman! And she was a cheap tawdry one at that, blond spiky hair and geisha-face. A warm fur coat was pulled fast around her and, Tony's hands were thrust deep into her pockets.

Niki's head was pounding. She began to walk over to the couple, finding it hard to breathe as her pace quickened. She heard a train begin to roar deep in the tunnel, and the sound echoed around her, as her senses exploded into a furious overload of defensive anger.

With an animal cry of pain, she lurched at the unsuspecting Tony with the spiked heel of her shoe, striking again and again. With the last blow, a small hole appeared in his forehead. Blood spurted out, and as he fell, she saw his startled face stare up at her in horror and surprise.

But somehow he looked wrong. How come he wasn't wearing his glasses? And his hair: it should have been the colour of thick treacle. So why did it glint in the halogen light like golden corn. And on the flailing wrist, there was a tattoo, where no tattoo should be. Come to think of it - she had never seen that jacket before, or that shirt. And he was bigger, much bigger.

The geisha girls' shriek resounded around the subway, bouncing from wall to wall, and mingling with the screech of the train as it lumbered to a stop.

It stopped right over the body of the man who was not Tony.

Breanda Cross has had short stories published in Crimewriters Queensland Anthologies, Hayakana magazine in Japan and Bullet in the U.K. She is a regular contributor for Community Radio - NAG and 4RPH and is the author of a novel titled Shark Arm Unhooked? (2006)