Brone Barnheart Apt. 223

I was on the sidewalk, trying to light a cigarette. It was raining, of course. After one to many failed attempts, I gave up and let it just hang there. I was sucking on nothing. I had a few buck and nothing to do. My feet immediately took me in the direction of the bar. I saw her in the gutter, crying, rocking herself. No time to crack jokes. I reached out my hand to touch her shoulder, console her, but I hesitated. There was nothing I could say, knew how to say. So I silently slipped off my trench coat, and placed it around her. She didn't look up but grabbed the edges, continually rocking. I left her there, there was nothing more I could do. As I walked on I glanced across the street and noticed that my woman in red was not behind the counter, a guy this time. I sighed. As the bar windows came into view I spit out the unlit cigarette. My hand on the door I saw the red scarf on the coat hanger. “Heh.” There she was at the bar, beautiful and mysterious, my kind of woman. I walked in, sat down on her right and ordered a red Russian. Luckily I was not carded. She didn’t talk much, and always wore a poker player’s face. It was hard work to learn even the slightest detail about her. As the day turned to night, I learned some of her dislikes; idleness, delay, boredom. She hid her emotions, but I saw something very familiar in her eyes, trouble. I like trouble. Her body language was screaming out something to me too. It looked like the night was about to get interesting. I grinned. I looked past her and I saw…no…it couldn’t be! My smile evaporated. I was paralyzed in my chair. Outside the bar, it was….it was Meredith. Was I dreaming? Another Nightmare? I rubbed my eyes and looked again, just in time to catch the wisps of her hair leaving the window view. She was heading into town, shit. She was the one who had killed my heart all those years ago. There was only one reason she was hunting me down now.
“I….I have to go.” I said lamely. I quickly got up and left the bar. Meredith was nowhere to be seen. I chanced a look back inside. Was she, was she crying? No time to worry about her now. I called Seebach.
“Michael, what the hell. Give me my ID."
"I need it much more than you idiot. Don't think you can trade me a hundred bucks for it."
"Unbelievable huh? but that's not important, of course I'm calling you for a reason. So listen carefully, because I'm serious about it."
“I think I saw Meredith.”
He said something about meeting, but I already knew this was my problem. I went back into my apartment and laid down. Looks like my dreams were catching up to me, but how was it going to end? Sleep took me and there she was, standing pretty with a pistol.