She Is and She Always Will Be

He was a gambler who had been knocked down by a sizeable margin, not that his bank account would show low returns. He was a wealthy man. Quiet and calculative at the poker table. Meek and mild in a crowd. He was an unpopular man. Slightly overweight and sporting a lumpy tummy, he was an unattractive man. Receding hairline. Middle aged. A smoker short on breath. High cholesterol. No muscles. He had a very active asthma that would act up should he try to run. He was an unhealthy man. He was a target. He was before he was not. She sat down across from him at the table. She is a gambler of sorts. She is quiet, completely silent, and gives off a supernatural eerie calm that strikes like sharp perfume at the nostrils. She's a woman removed, but still relevant to the action. She's skinny and pale. Blonde hair. Dark eyes. Soft lips. Pretty smile. She is an attractive woman. Toned body. Fast reflexes. Observant eyes. Strong for her size. Lungs that can hold infinite air. She is a strong woman. She is a force to be reckoned with. She is and she will always be. It happened out in the snow. He normally parked in the parking garage. On that day, however, he parked far off from the casino for no reason in particular. He walked slowly. He moved timidly, as he had his whole life through. She moved briskly. She moved confidently. She didn't run. She trailed just behind. He didn't see her. I guess her pale skin blended in with the snow, or maybe he just needed new glasses. He got to his car. He fumbled with the keys. She came up from behind and knocked him to his knees. What happened next was not pretty. The excess blood from his body seemed cartoonishly bright as it flowed out form his neck and soaked into the snow. It looked like strawberry syrup; the kind you put on a snowcone. He was before he was not. She is and she always will be.