The granite path erupts with moss.
The once-white walls sag gray with decades of neglect.
The windows glow dimly, shrouded with grime.
A man in a void-black suit, gels his mop of just-graying hair into form, and smirks.
Perfect.
To the untrained eye, it seems like the last place a con man would consider.
But, The Grifter knows.
Wrinkled houses mean a wrinkled resident.
The wrinklier the better. Antique value goes up, memory retention goes down.
The elderly can be so trusting, especially of a man in a suit.
He adjusts his bright red tie, an elegant serpent’s tongue on his slender frame.
He slides to the door, shimmering black shoes clicking against the stone steps.
He knocks against the door with a musical barrage, feigning friendliness.
The door creaks open, his lips unsheathe a grin, deadly white.
He starts in with his practiced spiel, but his fangs falter.
The woman startles him with her youth, her lavender scent nearly breaks his form.
He maintains his venomous charm, and appeals the case for “calling a tow truck.”
The woman smiles with bright red lips, unlatches the door, and insists he comes in.
Her voice pours like rich molasses down his mind, it grows hard to focus.
A towering armoire brings him back to his sinister ambitions.
He nonchalantly mentions his position as an “antiques collector.”
The woman spins around, her fluttering crimson curls a dancing flame.
She claims surprise, and offers to show him a collection of old porcelain in the basement.
The man beams, nearly squealing with thoughts of his future wealth.
He maintains some composure, the slightest glimmer of sweat on his brow.
He eagerly offers to assess their worth, warning that porcelain rarely increases in value.
The man descends the creaking stairway, hands twisting with avarice.
The woman slips a knife from her stocking, the motion silent with grace.
Because, The Grifter knows.
A black suit means a black heart.
The blacker the better. Self-confidence goes up, wariness goes down.
The greedy are so easily misled, especially by a beautiful woman.
A woman in a void-black dress, primes her blade for the base of the skull, and smirks.
Perfect.
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