His shoes bruised harshly the skin of the street
as he made his way towards me, leaving behind a trail of outlandishly ghastly fumes.
With the letter in hand, his eyes were shaded in by confusion.
His opposition towards his deployment:
He is to be wed tomorrow.
Maybe his deployment could be delayed?
But as I pondered on the matter,
The man took hold of my arm
He mustered pressure
as if he were a snake attempting to intimidate the keeper
                                 "Fix. It."
He stressed both syllables with a sickening hiss.


The air 'round us halted after a breeze
quicken it's pace
crossing the street to the sidewalk over.
His shaded eyes met my hollow eyes.


"I just had this suit dry cleaned."


And with that I snagged his soul.