It was inevitable. What do they say? “I’m only human.” I thought I was above their clichés, but alas, here I am—facing the consequences of my all-too-human mistakes.

It’s a shame, really. I was starting to like Denver. The mountains were peaceful, the people alluring. It served as a good distraction for a while, and I had hoped it might afford me some longevity. Starting over had become a necessity over the years, but it was growing tedious. I believed that by perfecting my craft, I could finally call Denver home.

But Denver wasn’t the only thing I was starting to like.

Had I not been rushing to dinner, I wouldn’t have been so careless with my fingerprints. But the thought of her sitting alone—gorgeous and doe-eyed, routinely glancing toward the front door—was too enticing. My meticulous clean-up was abandoned for the fleeting hope of a goodnight kiss. My diligence, squandered by the anticipation of her floral perfume. I just wanted to be close enough to smell it on her slender neck. Close enough to hear the pulse thumping beneath its intoxicating scent.

From the moment we met, I knew she was different from the rest. She had an intelligence I feared but respected. It kept me on my toes. The thrill of possibly getting caught in this game of cat and mouse elevated the stakes of my performance.

But she was a distraction, and my curiosity made me sloppy.

I had no choice once they brought in a second pair of eyes on my work. I would need to leave after misdirecting the evidence, just in case.

So, our game of cat and mouse must come to an end. It’s a shame it’s come to this. I really did think she was different. At least, I’ll get to smell her perfume one last time.