Their bodies moved together almost perfectly. Seemingly synchronized. The sweat dripping in shiny beads. Her soft cries, his deep grunts. He watched them. He watched their act of passion until they finally came to a halt. She fell down against him and snuggled into his chest. The rage and anger radiated off of him. He quietly backed away from the bedroom door and retreated into the living room.

She walked into the room about an hour later. She had showered, and her lover more than likely slipped out of the bedroom window. She smiled awkwardly and walked over to him. She hugged him, almost timidly. She asked him why he was here. Why was he here? It was his house! He rose, angered. He advanced on her when suddenly a pain erupted in the back of his head. Then all went black. He fell to the floor, dead. The man he had seen in the bedroom stood over him, holding an aluminum baseball bat. She ran to him and buried her face in his chest. Her tears wetting the soft fabric of his shirt. All she could do was cry. There was nothing else she could do. She turned and looked down at the man on the floor. Her stalker was dead.

The End

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