I was thinking,
what it feels
inside a veil
when we live.

No one can know
crying or laughing,
no one can know
face in disguise.

Those happy selfies
say something else
deception prevails
all poker faces.

A parallel universe
in my imagination
no fear of truth
no more pretention .

Letting the tears flow
letting laugh come from heart;
we are all humans
true love,what we want.

Letting ourselves be loved
screaming,not being silent;
suppressed,are the weaklings
not we, the divine elements.

The cage of masquerade
the virtual disguise
the slaved emotions
no more in premise.

Will the cage be destroyed?
Will the universes coincide?
denizens will be freeman,
slavery,will they deride?

The Customer Is Always Right

In a penthouse on the roof of a skyscraper overlooking Basin City, a fancy party is in progress. A woman, dressed in a red evening gown, is alone on the balcony. A man, who is narrating, comes up behind her and offers her a cigarette. They exchange a little small talk. He tells her that he sees in her eyes a “crazy calm” of someone who’s tired of running, but doesn’t want to face her problems alone. He tells her that he will save her, and take her far away. They kiss, then he shoots her. She dies in his arms. He says that he does not know who she was running from, but will “cash her cheque in the morning.”

Explanation: The victim in this story, the Customer of the title, the unnamed woman had dated a mobster, and when she tried to break it off, he said that he would kill her in the most terrible way possible. She then used her connections to hire a hitman (known as the Salesman) to provide her with a quick death.