Mirroring Like A Shadow

I had watched her for weeks now. Following her everywhere she went,
always staying far enough away that she would never notice I was there.
Tailing her, noting every move that she made. Everyday it was the same,
she left her small apartment across the street from my own at seven am
each morning and took the subway three stops to get to her office. At
exactly five minutes after midday, she came out of her office to go to
the deli opposite and buy a large smoked chicken on rye and a
cappuchino, she always took these back to her office to eat them in
complete privacy in the corner room that she alone inhabited. 3.30pm
and she would pop into the alley at the back of the building for a
quick cigarette, then finally at 6.45pm she left the office to make
that half an hour journey back home, where she spent her evenings in
front of the TV. Since winter was drawing near it was always dark when
she got off the subway, to walk from the station back to her
home.
I looked down at my watch, it was ten past seven, she would pass the
doorway of the factory where I stood any minute now. The street along
side me was in almost total darkness, I had cut the wires to every lamp
along the whole length of the street to make sure that she couldn't see
my shadow next to hers when I fell into step just half a meter behind
her. In order to make sure that she couldn't hear me I'd worn soft
soled black trainers, skin tight black jeans, a pure cotton sweater and
black leather gloves. I didn't want her to notice me till I was ready
to make my move on her.

Suddenly from down the street I heard the approaching clacking noise of
her high heels. I stepped back into further into the shadows, hugging
the old concrete wall. As she passed where I stood, I moved out off the
wall and fell silently into step behind her. I was determined to follow
every one of her movements to ensure total invisibility. Just as her
leg moved forward to take the next step mine did too, perfectly in time
with hers. The swing of her arms was also copied, pulling back in the
other direction just before it rose 45 degrees from the angle of her
leg. The sway of her hips as she walked, the brush of her hands through
the hair, the little hop as she passed over the curb. Everything done
in perfect sequence.

We were approaching the road where we lived now, so I had to make my
move quickly. I drew in closer to her, still keeping pace with her. My
left hand moved slowly to the machete that sat in a scabbard attached
to my belt and removed it silently. This was the moment. I leapt
forward and grabbed her from behind. She dropped her bag and turned her
head to face me. Recognition sparked in her eyes and a frown creased
her otherwise smooth forehead. This is the same expression that was on
her face when they found her, as at that exact moment, I sliced through
her delicate neck, severing everything that made contact with it, blood
spouted from the wound, splattering against the pavement eight feet
from where she stood. I kissed her briefly, her sweet blood
transferring from her lips to mine and dropped her to the floor, dead.
I had mirrored her perfectly, just like her own shadow would have.