As I walked along the cold damp streets of New York City I felt a sudden sense of calm. My head was held high and my arms hung slightly as if I was entirely unstressed.

I felt the chill air climbing up my spine as I smelt the crisp scent of a hotdog. My stomach grumbled and I seemingly floated toward the cart. The red thick ketchup dripping down the side of the savory treat reminded me of the day prior when the bad thing happened. I got teary eyed as I stared deeply down at the bloo- I mean ketchup. I thought of the dagger sticking out of my poor uncles back and the red sticky liquid spilling upon the ground at my feet.

Remaining in deep thought as I walked a man in a homberg hat and a dark brown jacket bumped into me. His eyes looked familiar. It was almost as if I had seen him before. I do believe it was his eyes that drew my attention. His dark framed glasses were scratched like he was just recently in a fight. We both went different ways without a word between us.

Suddenly I remembered exactly where I knew him from. It was him! The man who I watched stab my uncle in the alley. That bastard was just walking around like nothing happened. He stole a life without a bit of regret for that weary soul.

I turned to look back at him and there he was just behind me wide eyed with an eerie smirk. His charming lightning blue eyes had a glimmer of light in them. I watched him reach into his inner jacket pocket as he slid his knife out. The knife that had taken one life already. It still had blood on it. The rust corroded the blade.

I walked towards him ready to speak when… I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I looked down and saw his steely blade piercing my side. I punched him across the face and bashed his head against the wall of the local club. I took the knife out of my side and slashed his sickening throat. As blood gushed out of him and I watched the life slowly fade from his eyes I closed mine knowing I had not much time before I bled out and met my uncle once more. I smiled ruefully and rest at last… Was I a killer? Was it just self defense? At this point these questions mattered less. I was content with my own actions and that’s all that mattered. My life was over but so was the persons who killed a good man.