I'd read in a lot of places that getting married is a really poor idea until you've done that, spent days and nights and weeks and months together to ...he point that you each know all the other's faults and quirks and marriage, the final step, is no more than a speed bump in the road.Maybe that's right for a lot of people, but for us the newness was part of the excitement. Oh, we'd squabble occasionally, but really low-key and always made up by bedtime. Mostly it was all the joyous time that. “I’m just making coffee” he called, “Do you take sugar?” “No thank you.” He appeared carrying two cups. On seeing me he stopped and gave me a quick appraisal. I walked about and gave a twirl for him to get a good look. “Oh lovely,” he said, “You look fantastic.” I smiled and said thank you. It was such a boost for my ego. It felt so good being dressed in front of someone again. The dog followed him from the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks and barked at me. I think I freaked him out a bit with. Showy but it got the point across. Now the natives looked restless. I had just killed two of them in under 5 seconds without really breaking a sweat. Stopping before I reached the group, I gestured with my sword to the male leader in an obvious invitation to join me. He made a quick decision, grabbing the females and throwing them at me, he and the rest of his party quickly disappeared.The females, girls really on closer inspection, were human, about 15 or so from the looks of things and, well,. Like they used to say in the Army: you watch out for the guys that are fearless,’ he thought. Out of his small carry-on, he unpacked his weapon. Nothing fancy: a .40 caliber Beretta that would easily do the trick. He then pulled out the box. It wasn’t fancy like you see in the movies. Just an old Nike shoe box. Inside were countless pictures of his target. Her husband was reluctant to take them from their home but if he wanted the job done right, he knew that the pictures would give the killer.