His hand grasps the clasp of her gold necklace, the peach-fuzz hairs on the back of her neck run cold down her spine from the heat his fist emits with a lateral twist, she chokes then gasps for air, falling forward, she trips and breaks the clasp, her necklace disappears along with the culprit, she sees nothing through her weeping emerald island eyes.
Sitting outside along the window ledge, she ponders the meaning of the attack, other than lacerations on her neck the police find not a shred to convict anyone of the crime, no evidence, a cold case, the woman falls to her death.
