The Murder of Vidalia

knife

“Knife in Sink” Photo by Scot Anderson

It started with a knife. Dipped briefly beneath some cool water, he gazed at the weapon firmly held in his hand. He’d done this many times before, but still showed hesitation each time the process had to be repeated. He walked over to the table where his victim awaited. Taking a deep breath, he slid the cold, sharp blade into its flesh.
A smell similar to the under arm cavities of a day laborer planted for hours beneath the hot sun instantly released and caused his nose to react violently. Within the seconds that followed, his eyes watered, sending bursts of burning streams down his face. Determined to finish what he’d already began, he started to carve faster, each sliver leaving a small puddle of stinky liquid on the wooden slab. Finally finished, he tossed the knife carelessly into the sink nearby and ran towards the bathroom.
The fresh air played only a small role in soothing him, but the cleansing of his face and hands with warm water provided complete relief. He let his elbows rest on the edge of the sink, satisfied that he had finished the job. The end results would prove to be worth every agonizing moment. After drying his hands, he pulled a small brown notepad and black pen from his back pocket. With a single swoop, he drew a check mark next to his most recent completed task: Slice Vidalia onions.

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