Barely An Incident

  A psycho crying in the park at night with a knife 'cause his wife swiped his card and drove out of his life.

The previous night he had met his twelfth victim but little did he knew that he would soon meet the thirteenth near the swing set in a park.

 The wind whistled, the leaves rustled, the rusted slope of the slide creaked, the psycho sobbed & the killer stepped closer & closer & closer still and stopped.

 The killer let his breath linger on the psycho's neck before taking the final step and merging with him.

 "Hey pal, let me help you with that." he said & with his knife he carved the number thirteen on the psycho's back.

 The night fell silent. You could hear the ground, only for a moment, before everything moved on.