Salvation
The red shirt underneath feels like a deliberate choice, the vibrant color bold against the dark suit, and it reminds me of the blood that will soon be spilled, that will stain my hands before the night is over.
“Welcome Mr…” he begins, stretching his hand to me. An unwise decision, I think, as I glance at his extended hand- a gesture to show trust, to form a connection. It's a pity he’s just offered his hand to The Devil, to the very man who will soon be taking his last breath.
“Levi” I answer, my voice is calm, controlled, as I grasped his hand in mine. The contact is brief, but it’s enough to have his face imprinted at the back of my mind.
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