Connection

The tall man with the droopy moustache wore a Mickey Mouse T shirt and baggy camouflage pants. A beer mug in his hands he gazed pensively at the gathering of influential people all mindful of proper attire and correct behaviour. The wedding reception in full swing; champagne circulated in cut crystal glass, bubbles breaking the surface and misting into the air. A celebration, a promise made, a planned future together.

Constance takes her husbands hand and together they slide out on the dance floor as one. The music starts, they waltz effortlessly to the ahhs of their collective family and friends. Enchanting, happy and completely in love. No tension. No misconnection. No subterfuge. Disarmingly open and honest. The music plays an upbeat tempo, the crowd glides effortlessly two by two swirling under the sparkling lights.

A shot rings out. The sudden explosive sound pierces the air, the music stops, the tableau of dancers shifts to a mass exodus of scrambling bodies running to the doors. No stranger to guns Constance looks around the room past the chaos and says to the man in the Mickey Mouse shirt. “I see you John” as he drops the pistol to the floor, raises his hands in mock surrender then calmly slips out a door and disappears into the night. Constance knows that she and her family will never really be safe, her position in law enforcement has garnered her many enemies. This time, just a warning.


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