She rushes up to me on the street, flushed and out of breath. She wants to know where I've been. Frankly, I don't know. Since the night she handed me that .22, I had realized that there might be as much wrong with me as with her. But matters of the heart are tricky.

I found myself dialing her number at random hours only to hang up before she or her voice mail picked up. I'd accidently walk 20 blocks out of my way just so I'd pass by her apartment or the corner store she frequents just so I could maybe catch a glimpse of her, but I didn't want her to see me. Upon hearing her voice on my machine, I was torn between amorousness and horror, especially because the growing anger in her voice was astonishing.

She thought I was avoiding her and wasn't a true friend. It wasn't that at all. I was in love with her but wasn't sure that killing for her was such a good idea. After all, 15-to-life is hardly much of a honeymoon. Nor would be frying in the electric chair instead of on the beach. No, this girl had a plan, and I was part of it, and she was for real. She seemed a little obsessive-compulsive in that genius sort of way. I'd hoped maybe she'd find another obsession--like me, for instance. Aside from that, my only hope was that she'd come to her senses and realize there is no Cupid we can see. He just hovers in the invisibly rarified air.

Still, here she was now, full of excitement. "You can explain yourself later," she granted. Grabbing my hands, she peers deeply into my eyes, and I feel penetrated in every way so that my knees nearly give in. With the next word out of her mouth, I swear I almost see the beating of wings, like a hummingbird but bigger. "Babe..."

"Yes," I shimmer.

"We've got him. This is it. He's a goner."

I come back to my senses. "He?" I am confused, my heart quickens. Maybe she is saying that she's over it. Maybe her delirium has relinquished the notion altogether. Maybe I can be her next obsession.

"Yes, meet me in the alley just like we talked about." She's jazzed. If only that gleam in her eye was truly for me. "Midnight, kay? And wear something appropriate." She smiles and laughs. What a sorry excuse for a joke. Gently shaking me she repeats, "Okay?" I'm slow to speak, causing her to deflate momentarily. "Where've you been anyway?" I've got to respond because the silence is filled with the deafening sound of flapping. But I can't speak because I'm crushed by the decibels, so she says "Never mind," and I'm crushed again. "Midnight?"

"'Round 'bout, yah." I smile cherubically. Angels and devils are sometimes one and the same.

The witching hour. It's raining. Dress appropriately, I get it now. A slicker. That's what I love about her. She can predict the future. I think back to the plan we discussed what seems like a bittersweet youth ago, but I put it out of my mind. "It's all good, though," I repeat to myself as I look around my place for what I seem to know will be the last time for this lifetime. We're in love. I am.