Soon he had the pen and the paper ready for another kill.
He remembered how he wanted to become an actor when he was young. Not because he had the necessary skills but because he wanted to be famous. He loved how actors made trends. Whatever they wore their fans followed. Their hairstyles were copied immediately and how the girls went crazy just at listening the name of their favorite actor. Plus, an added advantage would be that he would have a lot of money if he is famous. He never thought about becoming master at a sport or joining politics to be famous because both of these required a lot of practice and time before gaining anything. But fame through acting comes without much initial efforts. “It’s all about a good face and some skills”, he used to think. He used to read interviews of celebrities and daydream about his own movies. Sometimes, he would try different dialogues and action sequences and felt proud of his abilities but he rarely made any attempts to become an actor. He never even participated in drama in school or graduation. He never went for auditions. I guess he was waiting for some miracle to happen. Miracle of the kind where a director would spot him in the crowd and sign him to be the hero in his next movie, or something like that.
“Fame” he wrote down on the paper and quickly put the paper back in the drawer of his study-table. He feared if Fame would be as quick as money. But five minutes later, when Fame had not yet come, he took the paper from the drawer and checked the spelling. It was correct. He put the paper back in the drawer. He decided to wait for a while longer. “She must be busy”, he tried to calm himself.
It had been 10 more minutes before Fame knocked the front door. He went to the door and confirmed while staying behind the screened door that it’s Fame, then only He opened the door. She was wearing a denim beanie hat, and a matching pea jacket. Her wayfarers were hanging out by one of her pockets.
“You are always wearing the best of dresses.” for a moment he forgot that he was going to kill her and was genuinely smiling.
“I have to look my best every day. I meet so many people.” she argued as she leaned towards him for a hug.
As soon as she got in the house, she looked at the chair and said, “Aha, the antique chair from the time of British. Which English lord did it belong to again?”
“It’s either this or the low sofa. Your choice.” He replied pointing towards the mattress folded into one corner of the room. He was back on his killing track again just in a moment and asked, “Care for a drink?”
“Nah, not tonight. I have got this promotion thing.” She said, still deciding on whether to sit on the chair or not.
“Some coffee then? It is cold and you have to be up till midnight I suppose.” he was now getting desperate. If she refuses for coffee than what would he do? How would he kill her?
She looked in his eyes like she was trying to read his mind and said after a few seconds “Coffee sounds good.”
He immediately went off to the kitchen, fearful to face her and maybe trying to get it over with as soon as possible. It didn’t take him much time to make the poisoned coffee, this time he had made sure that there is no smell of rat poison but just of coffee. When he handed the cup to her, she took it with a “Thank you”.