Nighthawks

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A modern-day Bonnie and Clyde. Oh, didn’t we look innocent? Andrew with his half-finished cigarette dangling from his mouth and I, the pretty girl in fashionable clothing. We had purposely driven out to this little town where they would not have heard of our reputations of preying on the innocent.

But what could we say? I needed two things: Andrew and money, and Andrew had always had a bad-boy streak in him. Personally, I craved for independence, fighting against the generic housewife role that my family had always forced upon me. We were perfect together, really. I was the only one willing to go along with whatever crazy idea had occurred to him, and his current plan was for us to become the next Bonnie and Clyde. He even wanted to introduce himself as Clyde, at first, until I told him that that could possibly give us away before we had even put our mastermind plan into action.

It was a slow night. The bartender lazily swirled a rag against the wooden surface of the bar, while the only other man there seemed to enjoy burying himself deep in brooding thought; usually a lone man in a bar at midnight would be drowning himself in alcohol to numb the extreme heartache that he was undoubtedly experiencing, only to slur an additional, “Gimme’nother!” at the poor server.

I sipped at my glass of wine, stealing a glance at Andrew. He took a long drag off of his cigarette, his face expressionless before the he felt the weight of my stare upon his skin. He caught my eye and grinned - the same provocatively daring smile that he had had since he was a boy.

Without warning he stood up, pulling the gun out of his inner jacket pocket and fired.


We were gonna be rich one day.





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