I am in my car when I see her walk past: white knee-socks, the swish of plaid, and her blue coat with a hood. I want to walk up to her right then, but I wait. Not yet, I think, soon but not yet. I need to make a plan first. She slows at the light, goes one more block and turns on Oak for half a block more, then walks up a brick path: 12 Oak Street. I make note of it.

The next day I track her to the shop where she buys a tea. Then I go off to the store. I need to buy a pair of tree snips. I find a pair I like. They are green and black. The sharp ends shine and bright glints catch my eye. These will do fine, I think. I stand in the aisle and press my thumb to the blade and dream of the sound it will make: shhhunk.

The next day I go back to the place where she buys her tea and wait for her to come in. 1:10, right on time. As she stands in line and waits for her drink, I pass by her, so close I can smell the gloss that makes her lips look wet. Mint, just like her tea. I let my hand kiss the back of her hand as I hunch past. Her nails are matte pink. Did she do that for me? I think so. “’Scuse me,” I say as I sigh past, but she does not look up at me. Minx.

After she leaves, I head to CVS to buy a wool cap. The girl there gives me a germ mask. “You don’t want to catch it,” she says. I nod. When she turns, I sneak two more masks from the pile. Her nails are a dull gray color; they are long and curve down. I don’t like her nails. I pay for my knit cap. With the cap and mask on, my eyes are all she will see of my face.

I know I should do a run-through so I trap a cat, gold with dark spots, and kill it with a blow to the head. I don’t like to kill, but it must be done. I need to do a run through. With my tree snips I take each toe off the front feet. Fast and clean. Then I take each of the back legs whole. It is hard to cut clean through the bones, but I am strong. There is lots of blood. I will need gloves and a clean pair of pants. I don’t want a mess.

For three more days I wait and watch. She goes to class, then to work. She takes a break and sits on a bench out front. She reads a book. She licks the thumb of her left hand and turns the page. I see her lips, moist; her tongue to her thumb; her thumb to the page and right then, I make my choice. That one is the one I want. Soon it will be my thumb to put on my lips or in my mouth as I see fit: a gift from her to me. A gift we can share. She has it now, but I will have it soon. I smile as I walk by.

It’s dark, or near dark, and I am all set to go. She is not far from Oak Street. I will get what I came for. I will get it and go. We are close to her house. She can make her way there when I am done. She will be fine. I slip on my gloves – they are tight – and I feel, there at my side, for the snips in my coat.

I have thought of this for so long. Now that the time is here it is like a dream…a good dream…the best dream. I have seen her touch her hair, brush it from her face with a flip. Her pink nails at her neck, her pink nails at her ear. The pink tap, tap, tap, on her phone as she writes to some boy, I bet. I let her tease me but soon it will be time for her to pay. I have come to take what I am due.

When it all goes down it is not like you see in film. It is not smooth. I come up in back of her in my mask, safe from all the germs. But she is not a germ. I grab her and she swings. She hits me. She is strong. Gash. Her ring cuts my cheek. She grabs my mask. She sees my face. I did not plan for her to see my face. She broke the rules.

But I am strong, too. I will not let her stop me. I will have what I came for. I knock her down hard. She tries to crawl, but I am on her, my knee in her back, my hands on her throat. I choke and I choke and I don’t let up.

It takes so long. Life does not give up fast. Life keeps on and on and on for so long. When she is still, when it is done, I drag her to a bush, out of view. I slump down and rest with her, just us two, side by side on the damp grass. I am hot and wet with sweat and I hear the rasp of my breath. I can feel that sleep wants to come and take me. I can’t let it. I know I must get on with it.

I get to my knees. I take my snips and I lift her arm and hold it out from my pants, out from me. I take her thumb and hold it, just so…shhhunk. There is a small squirt of blood, then her hand falls to the grass and I have my prize. I get up and step back. I put the snips in my coat. I roll the gem in my hand and look at it: pink and red…and free of her. Mine. With care I make a loose fist, pull my glove down from my wrist, roll it off my hand and twist it shut: my prize slides back and forth in its small bag of blood.

I grab the mask from the lawn, fold it, and put it with the snips in my coat. Next time I will use a mask that won’t come off. I did not want to kill her. She made me do that. She was a bad girl. Bad. I did not want to kill her. I feel fear rise in my chest, so I reach in and I take my prize in my hand. I feel the hard, sharp tip of her nail on the soft pad of my own thumb and then I am calm. “Next time,” I say in my head, “Next time I will get it right.”

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