Stabbed

I am waiting for the passage of time. It's 3 degrees below and there
is only stillness, no wind, but the still air stabs into me, taking
away all my heat, my life.My coat is thick, I was right to take it, his
empty body had no use.

My breath is white and I can pretend I am smoking again, pretend to see
the pale slim cigarette burning bright, shortening with each in take. I
watch my frozen breath drift up to the colourless sky. It is gone in
seconds.

I stamp my feet and huddle my arms together. She must come, she has to
stick to the bargain. There is little time left.

I hear her footsteps first. Her lightweight feet crackle the frost,
which covers the ground like frozen spittle. My back is turned towards
her and as I began to smile I feel the sharp brittle steel and my
passage is over.