I linger restlessly in a pool of inky shadow by the entrance to the underpass, my shallow breaths forming anxious plumes in the bitter night air.
My muscles jolt as adrenaline surges, electric with anticipation. The blade twitches wetly in my sweating palm, mirroring the dismal jaundice-glow of the lamps that buzz malevolently along the narrow passage.
I hear the timpani of her approaching heels and step out into the light. Echoes subside as she halts, uncertain.
A figure enters the tunnel behind her, knife upheld. My phantom reflection steps forward, its face in shadow.
In unison we close in.
"We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight."