.now...now...---She is certain he is following mere inches behind her. When she turns to catch him in the corner of her eye, he is an appropriate dist...nce back. More than appropriate. Respectful. It is all in your head, she thinks to herself.They reach her barber's chair. He takes off his suit jacket and puts it on the chair in the station next to hers, the motion somehow both casual and precise. "You can't put that..." she begins, but before the words escape her lips, he has already relaxed. “What are you sorry for?" He asked, in control again. "Be specific.” And he turns to me, is still. Glaring. Smirking.He pulls out his knife. Karajan wants specifics.The thought of his hands and shoulders and his knife brings me closer.... “Karajan, I mean it. I love you! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”Karajan grabs my throat with with left hand and squeezes like he means it this time. The knife he is holding in his right hand punctures my throat. He is going through with it. . More

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