This is the best day of my life! I found the God of all cinnamon rolls. Heavenly bun was fresh and still slightly warm in its package. This beautiful pastry was topped with a sticky, gooey, soft peanut butter spread. I took a bowl out of a cabinet and placed the gods' gift to pastries in a bowl and popped it into the microwave for thirty-seconds.

While it was getting nuked, I went into the freezer and grabbed the tub of vanilla ice cream. A chime from the microwave signaled my treat was ready. Pulling the bowl out of the microwave, I scooped ice cream into the bowl. Drops of melting vanilla pooled beside the warm, gooey bun. Sweet aromas had me hypnotized until my phone rang, bringing me back to reality. Wiping the drool off my mouth, I left the bowl on the counter and answered my phone. “Hey Babe, are you still coming over for dinner?” Syd texted.

“Yeah babe, I’m just going to enjoy my dessert, then I’ll head over.” I texted, walking over to my bedroom. Watching city life unfold below while savoring sweets is one of my guilty pleasure and it will help me recharge before tonight's dinner.

Slipping into my favorite alpaca onesie, I carried my bowl to the living room and settled into my favorite armchair, gazing at the cityscape below. It was a slow afternoon. There were some couples holding hands as they strolled down the street. There were people waving their hands frantically, trying to flag down a taxi. Others were looking at their phones while they walked. The phone zombies effortlessly dodged the oncoming traffic in front of them.

My eyes focused on a barber shop down below. Through the window, I watched a man grinning at the man in the barber's chair across from him. The man smirked as he watched the guy across from him getting an amazing haircut, unaware his barber was not giving him the same quality. If he only knew, the barber was creating the biggest hair catastrophe I'd witnessed.

The barber brushed off his hands, proudly declaring a job well done, before spinning his victim around to face the mirror. As the man in the chair looked at himself in the mirror, his smile melted to show an expression of horror. I couldn’t possibly have known what he asked the barber to do, but I’m positive he didn’t want a bowl cut.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the rooftop stairwell door violently swing open from the building directly in front of me. Two men emerged from the stairwell door. They were carrying a bruised man. The man's beaten face was a canvas of purple and yellow bruises, his white shirt stained crimson as the twins dragged him across the ground. The identical brothers crossed the rooftop in perfect sync, their matching dark suits and white shirts now spotted with their victim's blood.

Behind the twins walked their associates - one blending in with the twins' attire, while his companion stood out in a black shirt with a white tie. The man with the white tie took off his jacket and gave it to the underling behind him. With his jacket off, it reviled his gun holster, silver pistol on one side and a spare magazine on the other. He looked down, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves.

When the twins stopped in the middle of the roof, they turned the bloody man to face the boss behind him. His unswollen eye started to widen. The bloodied captive started kicking and screaming as the man with the white tie approached him.

The boss pulled brass knuckles from his pocket, slid them on his hand, and unleashed a barrage of punches on the captive's face repeatedly. Blood dripped from the man's mouth as he sagged between the twins. The white-tied man's expression hardened as he grabbed the bloodied shirt, pulling his target up for another round of merciless blows.

Pausing the volley of fist the boss held his victim by the color and looked down at him with the unchanged, cold expression. As the boss delivered his message, the beaten man responded by spitting blood in his face. When the angry underling from behind him stepped forward, the boss raised his hand, stopping him cold. Taking his pocket square out of his shirt, the boss wiped the blood off his face.

The boss put the pocket square back in its pocket, then pulled the gleaming silver pistol out of its holster. With a slow shake of his head, he spoke while threading the silencer onto his gun. The boss put the barrel on the man’s forehead, continuing to speak. When he finished, he squeezed the trigger and killed the man. Okay, I was not prepared to see all of that. Who murders someone on Christmas Eve?

My phone started to ring.

Syd was calling. Putting the phone to my face, I said, "Hey this isn’t a good time to talk…something absolutely insane just happened.”

“Are you people watching in front of your window while you eat your cinnamon roll again? You really should wrap it up, everyone is asking abou…” Syd paused. “Wait, why is your voice shaking?”

The boss and his underling were staring directly at me now. The boss’s face was red with rage and he was pointing in my direction, screaming at the underling. From their point of view, they could see me standing in front of the window with one hand on my head and a phone to my ear. They must think I am talking to the police.

The boss' screamed at the twins as they were rolling the corpse into the bag. Looking over at me, they abandoned their task and sprinted for the stairwell."Fuck, I gotta go! The Mafia is after me!"

"Whaa.." Syd said as I hung up the phone while running towards the door. I knocked over the tray table, holding my beautiful dessert. Looking back, I saw it scattered across the ground. I grabbed my wallet and keys, then ran towards the door. Putting my crocs in sport mode, I left my condo.

I took the stairs because the elevator would have taken too long. When I busted out into the street, a yellow cab answered my frantic wave, pulling up beside in front of me.

From behind me, I heard the shouts of what I assume was Russian. Turning around, it was the twins from the rooftop. I quickly ducked into the car. There’s no time to waste. I need to get out of here. “Start driving, please!” I screamed at the cab driver. The taxi accelerated into traffic without delay.