She

Carnation.

Like the colour of a flush on a cold winter’s morning. Such a subtle shade but it stood out against the camel leather in the mirror. A fresh swipe of her lipstick and then she began fiddling with the bag again. Presentation was everything, especially when you were presenting $4,000. She gave her reflection a once-over; hair pinned, skirt smoothed, and gloves worn at all times. Presentation was everything.

She heard the clatter of heels before the trill of the bell. The small, shaky steps were a brief warning to the shrill voice that followed. Then came the heavy scent of powder and lilies covering the unmissable undertones of decay. Her posture straightened routinely and with a plastered smile, she turned to welcome the lady.

Cherry. Painted clownishly over those wrinkly lips.

“I want something brown, to compliment Bella.” Her tone was decisive and pompous. She eyed the slobbering pug before deciding that the mocha Italian leather would do well.

She could hear the lady huffing as she hobbled over to the cash register. The exchange was always cutting and short, but every movement was purposeful. They would never accept the receipt, and bristled every time she asked if they wanted to join the loyalty programme despite giving in with little persuasion, and then they would already be turning away by the time she was wishing them a wonderful day. There was always an opaqueness in her gaze as she watched the $4,000 hanging inelegantly on their arms; the bag lost its grandeur once it was off that shelf. It was all over so very quickly.

She counted the minutes after, a stray hand smoothing over her skirt. They rarely had more than one customer a day and her immediate leave would probably have little consequence. But she would always wait.

The car was certainly not pretty, and she despised its kitschy charcoal colour, but it was reliable. She ran a gloved finger over the headboard and examined the specks on it; she’d clean it soon. Everyday she’d listen to the same voice on the radio, so smooth and intelligent, and though she’d never really pay attention, the hum of it in the background was pleasant. She heard the Doctor mention something about heart attacks and salt before her eyes flashed to a crow crying, swooping low and she was lost in thought once again. The world calmed as she left the bustle of the town centre and pulled into a quiet road. She parked her car, vaguely pleased with the precision. The air was thick with the sweet taste of flowers and the trees lining the street sang softly. It was almost beautiful but the thought of the dust settling on the headboard troubled her. She really would need to clean it soon.

The house greeted her quietly and its warmth in the afternoon sun was welcoming. Floorboards groaned under the point of her heel and she removed her shoes, placing them carefully by the stairs. The metallic wink of a kettle in the kitchen beckoned her but she stopped at the mirror and once again, her eyes flittered to her lips. She picked a lipstick from the table and swiped it over her mouth.

Ruby. Like the juice of pomegranates on cotton sheets.

She shuffled through the drawers, looking for a teaspoon as the kettle whistled. The smell of brewing tea wafted through the air and once the dark colour gave away to the milk, she walked over to the armchair and turned on the TV. She could feel the heat through her gloves and eyed the ruby stain on the mug, smoothing over her skirt.

She must have spent hours watching the sun sink slowly between the blinds before she heard the jangle of keys at the front door. Small, shaky steps and soft wheezing. She pulled the syringe from her bag as the pattering of paws in her direction prompted a frustrated huff.

“Where are you going, Bella?”

Now she could smell the powder and her fingers moved quickly, pulling back the piston, watching it fill with air. The pug yapped, almost in a playful manner and she observed its open mouth distastefully, silently.

It was all over so very quickly. She had expected as much. They gave very little resistance and the sheer shock of the confrontation quite literally stole their breath away. Two fingers below the joint in the arm and the syringe had pierced the skin before they could inhale again. The effects were almost instantaneous and the little “oh” that followed was rather pathetic. Their lungs would struggle somewhat, and unsteady steps walked straight into her arms. By the time she had half-walked half-dragged them over to the armchair, their skin had turned white. The pug barked frightfully, and she considered petting it but instead glanced around the room. The tea was cold and the stain on the mug less glossy. She turned it this way and that, before bending the lady’s legs a little to the right. Presentation was everything. The dog was whimpering weakly and the odour of decay hovered, much stronger now.

The bag was perched on the table by the mirror and she wiped the colour from her lips as she picked it up and quietly put on her shoes. She was already settling herself in the car before the lady’s pulse stopped flickering.

The town was much quieter now and the faint burn of the streetlights cast a strange glow over the polish of the mocha leather in the passenger seat. The comforting hum of the radio lulled her, and she pressed on a little faster.

The apartment was cold in the soft light of the moon and she could indistinctly smell the coffee she had made in the morning. Her feet ached and her skirt was getting uncomfortable. Unbuttoning it a little, she made her way to the end of the hallway. The drawer under the bed rolled out easily and the scent of polish and leather filled the room. The bag fit snugly between the others and the smile that danced on her lips was childish. She ran her finger over the leather, and it came back clean; her smile broadened. Fitted at the far end of the drawer was a little book.

Black. Like the crow who had called to her earlier.

She pulled it out and traced the edges carefully, picking up a loose thread in the leather. She flipped through the pages before finding an empty one.

Wednesday (20:15) - Leather bowling bag – Italian mocha

- Rouge Coco Chanel – Gabrielle 444

- Total: $20,000

Her smile broadened still.

***

Fuchsia. Like the neon lights decorating the tattoo parlour two streets away. She wondered if she should have just stuck with the lighter colour instead. She shook her head, focusing on which bags would need to be replaced with the newer stock and distractedly fiddled with their placement.

She heard the click-clacking of small, unsteady steps before the trill of the bell. Instinctively, she braced herself for the bleating voice that would follow, and the smell of powder and roses after that. Patting down her hair and running a hand over her skirt, she turned and smiled to welcome the lady.

Crimson.