It seemed appropriate;
a bottle of red and murder.
Alone in the shadows
she contemplates her choices.
They were the color of night
and as soft as silk.
A cool G laid on the counter;
she slipped the underwear into her bag.
Airports are never a good place to sleep;
phantoms lurk in shadows.
A woman drunk on red and plotting murder smiles,
she's feeling good in her thousand dollar purchase.