I trip over my doormat, stagger and stumble…I pant as I sit on the sofa

I look at my face in the mirror on the wall, it is drenched with sweat

Lines of fear, gush and rage form weird wrinkles all over my visage

I slowly draw out the blood-stained spear

I wipe it with the bed sheet and wash it with water from the bottle on the bed

The spear, my weapon shines like the moon in a dark night

I get up and head towards the washroom

I open my smeared clothes and throw them in the big black trash bag

“Today’s kill was an old lady, I wonder why the client wanted her dead.. May be it was for her bungalow in GK

I never bother to ask for details, I am a professional, you see

I take money and kill,

These thoughts float in my mind as I stand in the cool of the shower

I dry myself and look in the mirror on the wall again

Fresh, new, washed.

However, one ugly thought, which haunts me on all nights of work, crops up again,

“Look Criminal, you are clean

but doesn’t the fact bother you

That after the shower..the dirt goes away but the FILTH! The filth stay within”

I trip over the carpet, stagger and stumble

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