Main Character Energy

I was sitting in a cafe, reading a book, when in walked the main character of the book I was reading — which, alarmingly, was true crime.

And here was the merciless killer.

I didn’t know quite where to look, but it was hard not to stare.

This was not just a killer; this was a man with the cruellest bloodlust.

I found myself wishing I was reading erotica, like I usually would be.

When we made eye contact, the killer and I, the air went out the room — or I wasn’t breathing, that’s for certain.

I can’t recall ever being so terrified.

I continued to watch him as he walked up to the counter, ordering a sausage sandwich – “with just a swipe of ketchup” – and a cup of tea.

While he waited for them to bring him his order, the killer sat a table away from me. 

To my alarm, he again looked my way, while I still could not look away.

 “Ah,” he said, with what might fit upon most faces as a smile, “you’re a fan, I see.”

A fan.

All I could do in reply was gulp, glancing down at the cover of my book, frozen open in my hand.

“We’ve a few places left on this afternoon’s tour,” Jack the Ripper said, sliding a pamphlet over the table between us, “if you’d like to join.”

With the caution of a deer, I peered forward at the pamphlet there, The Ripper Tour of Whitechapel.

He was still looking at me, a fixed stare, and with that not-quite-smile.

“I had a sausage sandwich,” I found myself saying, in what I suppose was a subconscious attempt at supplication.

vss #59

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