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The pavement in this dreary gray city was glimmering as the star that lit up the morning sky shone hard on it. It would be hot and dry and dusty as it was for most of the year. But the rain from a week ago, as infrequent as it was, it only rained a couple dozen times a year in this town, had cleared up the area. The air was cool and fresh and tasted of salt but the nearest water mass was miles away. The birds fluttered as they mated and raced above. Trees sighed as they ate carbon dioxide.

In a beautiful white manor, its sole inhabitant sat and laughed. It was a contagious laugh, a happy laugh. What he had wanted was done. He was tall and beautiful, dark, smooth skin, brown hair, grey eyes, eyes that were deep and piercing. He sat on a maroon sofa, he grabbed the velvet arm on the right side, and rubbed it, a habit when he was happy. When his nails scratched the left side was when he was upset. He laughed, the grey in his eyes twinkling gayly.

The room he was in was walled with bookshelves of dark mahogany, the spiraling staircases from one level to the next made with oak. It had a skylight that shone in on a cluster of bonsai trees, made to grow tall and thin, each circling around the other as they reached for the top. A calming waterfall by the wall. 

His sofa was placed by the northern wall, next to the great big tinted window that overlooked the park.

He laughed and giggled with glee.

It had been easy enough to convince the portly man. Harder to find him, but harder was relative. An accountant at his firm. The features were all there. All he needed was a little push.

The nervousness, the sweaty palms, the shaking hands, eyes darting around when he thought no one was looking and when he thought everyone was staring. His old clothes. Covered with stains. He had the Workday records of the man pulled up. From there, it was simple deduction. Even then, he still felt the thrill tingling on his upper spine when he talked to the man, and found out he was right.

The thrill was stronger still when the man did exactly as he predicted. He knew the accountant would be hesitant. He had seen it in his legs on that rainy day. He had also known the accountant would be desperate, “You want the money, don't you?” ringing through his ears. And indeed it had.

When the news reporters started flashing online, and chattering excitedly, that was when he shouted yes, loud enough that the pigeons perching on the railings right above the library had cawed and flown away.

He laughed, and laughed and laughed. The tall man with the brown hair and gray eyes got up and danced around the room, hugging his sides as he did.

The chess player rubbed his hands. Another masterful stroke.