This is where I will post my responses to the prompts contained in "642 Things To Write About" as compiled by The San Francisco Writers' Grotto.
It was the first time I killed a man. I hadn't planned it...not really. I just had this cold knowing in my heart and no course of action. I was still working on that bit when I was walking down the street towards the apartment where I lived with my girlfriend, Lucy. She was the light of my life, the sun to my moon, to use a couple cliches. We met in college and I couldn't think of anyone else. So, I gave it a shot. Much to my surprise, she had felt the same way about me, or so she said. That could be debated now, after...everything.
As I was walking down the sidewalk towards my complex, fiddling with the knife in my pocket and walking in time with my heartbeat as it went faster...faster...faster--driving me ever closer to insanity with each beat, as if I were the narrator in Poe's "Tell-Tale Heart".
Right then I didn't know a lot of things--how I was going to do it, what would happen to me and Lucy afterwards, if I would get away with it--but I was sure of one thing. When I walked in that door and saw that man with Lucy, I'd have to kill him.