Malva’s Muse

The streetlights pour into her room. Her tan body sprawled across the bed, a duvet barely covering her body. A woman sitting at the foot of the bed, her hands covering her face. Malva perks up to look over at him.

“What’s the matter, Azazel ?” Malva uttered.

Azazel shook her head, as she leaned over to stroke the other’s curls.

“Don’t worry about it. . . .”

Malva gently rubs Azazel’s hip, pulling out a knife.

“That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve ever seen