LOVER-MURDER

ESMERALDA'S APARTMENT

Her eyes were heavy with the dark bags lurking beneath her eyelids, lashing the black eyeliners that smeared from her tears. Esmeralda was up all night drinking and drowning herself in sadness. She took her cellphone, which had been beeping for forever, and checked who was calling. Sylvester’s name popped up on the home screen, and she turned it off as soon as she saw it.

"Not now, Sylvester," she said, pushing the cellphone away from her and dragging herself down to the bedroom. She crept down to the leg of the bed and drew out a briefcase. She sat with her back resting slantingly on the bed and opened the briefcase.

"It’s still here; I am just overthinking things; why do I feel this hurt?" she asked herself drowsily. She rubbed her head sorely, like it could cure the migraine she was having. Esmeralda pulled out the gun, and the forensic results that confirmed it was her fingerprints.

"No one can fool you just like that, Esmeralda. Think!" She smacked her
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