Caroline Porchowsky stepped into the hallway from the overheated apartment and locked the door behind her. She slipped on the lime-colored wool coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. It was one of those bone-chilling February days, the kind that eats right through to your core, though the apartment was so hot she had carried the coat into the hall before putting it on. She felt a little guilty for taking her roommate’s coat without asking, but it was such a lovely color, and Sara wouldn’t be home for some time. Caroline was only going to slip across the street to the bodega and pick up a few things, and she would be back before her roommate returned from her restaurant job.
Normally Sara didn’t work on Tuesdays, but she had been called to fill in for another waitress who had taken ill. Sara had worn her other winter coat, the gray down jacket with the red lining, so Caroline decided it wouldn’t do any harm to use the green coat. Besides, it was a rare opportunity-Sara rarely wore anything else this time of year, and could usually be seen a block away in her bright green coat. So Caroline snatched the chance to wear the coveted garment, just this once.
She often wore her roommate’s clothes without asking. There was something delightfully wicked about getting away with it. Lately Sara had been asking questions that made Caroline think she had begun to suspect, but Caroline always denied her accusations. The clandestine nature of it was half the fun-if she asked permission, the whole thing would lose its appeal. She was very good at acting innocent-or thought she was-though she worried that Sara, being an actress, could see through her wide-eyed protestations.
Still, she enjoyed the game, and as she pulled the collar tightly around her thin neck, she sighed with pleasure. This particular shade of green went so well with her eyes, she thought-the coat really looked better on her than on Sara. She was pulling on her leather gloves when she thought she heard the soft click of the front door latch. She peered down the narrow flight of stairs but didn’t see anyone in the tiny foyer of the tenement building.
Caroline piled her hair up inside a gray wool beret, slid on a pair of sunglasses, and proceeded down the steep staircase, clutching the banister as she went. There was a loose step right before the landing, and she looked down to make sure of her footfall.
She never saw the attack coming. Her first awareness of it was the sensation of the cold metal as it slid into her gut, perforating her small intestine. She made no sound except for a single guttural grunt as she sank to her knees. She stared down in disbelief and astonishment as thick dark blood pulsed from her body. Only then did she look up into the face of her attacker. Curiously, her face held an expression of wonderment rather than fear, as though she was bewildered that anyone could want to do such a thing to her. By then it was too late-life was draining from her body with every beat of her heart.
She was still alive when her attacker fled the building, walking quickly in the direction of the subway. But by the time he reached the platform, she was dead.