Betrayal

Fog covers the Hoboken docks. The soft caress of waves alternates with the squawk of seagulls. The bars, pulsing, harshly lit, are just blocks away. It is damp and dangerous out here by the river. He is waiting for Noreen, his girl. He reaches into his dark trench coat and fondles the .45. For a moment there is doubt, hesitation.
Then he remembers the indelible image of her and the man, naked and entwined in bed, his own bed, smelling of raw lust. She agreed to meet him here to sort things out. Trusting Noreen. There was nothing to sort out. Betrayal wears no gray. It is stark and cruel.
Yeah, he trusted her and look what happened. With Morgan, the carpet salesman yet, the guy who helped them decorate the apartment. She probably thinks I'm going to forgive her. Maybe she'll cry and shudder. I will just stare coolly, reach into my pocket and...
A moment later she strides through the mist in a black full length coat with the collar turned up and a black fedora worn low. She walks right up to him with her emerald eyes, sneering lips and perfume from The Third Circle of Hell.
Right then he knew the gun was useless.