I was always told that I should strive to look my best. Always. There’s never good excuse to present oneself in any state disarray. It simply gave a wrong impression.

That day I took extra care. I matched my blouse, white with black polka dots, with a simple black skirt. I took a gray coat — it was fairly cold then. I had black shoes and black bag with a few items I needed. All looking elegant without attracting too much attention to my self. I had the idea that I would simply blend within the downtown people, all uniform in their expensive clothes.

I needed gloves, naturally, but the only pair I had were yellow. They were brand new, bought for the occasion. I didn’t want to leave any clues behind. Eddie deserved to die for what he did but I wasn’t ready to end up in a jail for killing someone who wore socks in sandals paired with shorts in summer and a pair of skinny jeans in winter — none of those were particularly flattering, elegant or manly.

Then I thought about it: accessorize! Luckily, I had a bright yellow umbrella — practical yet bright enough to brighten up a rainy day.

And so I was set to go. I stick to my plan: go to his apartment building unannounced on an afternoon when I knew he would be home. Kill him with a hammer (I do understand the lack of imagination here but it was the only useful tool I could fit into the bag that I chose for my outfit), and leave. I was planning to dispose of the hammer later on.

Thanks to my intensive exercise regime it was not really a problem. Everything went according to plan — no blood stains, no problems to get rid of Eddie. I took the hammer and put it in a plastic bag as not to stain the handbag. I chucked it into the river — no one would ever find it. I burned the gloves in a bin some homeless people left unattended in a street. It all worked out splendidly.

Except I forgot the umbrella in Eddie’s flat. That’s the problem with accessorizing — it’s more a fashion statement than a practicality.