Random Prose Moment : Sort of Noir

The rain hitting the window had me thinking of bullets. Not the sound, the building echoed with the muted roar of the storm's force being poured upon it, but the hole in the glass from where someone had tried to buy my silence for the price of a single round of ammo some months back. I had covered the hole with tape that was leaking now as the drops slapped the glass. I had heard some guy on the street corner preaching about this storm that wouldn't let up being angels weeping for the sins of us poor damned city folk, but the drops were too large for tears. As they hit the glass it looked more like a choir of angels were spitting on us.

"I am prepared to pay well, and in cash," her voice from behind me brought me back to the moment, it sounded silken and sensual among the angry percussion of the storm. She didn't belong in my office, much less this part of town. Her dress was so white that it should have been grey by now with the dust and grime that clung to everything in the room but she still looked virginal and pristine as I glanced back at her over my shoulder. She was trouble, the capital T sort of trouble.

And I loose the thread of what I was writing at about that point.. Oh well.. Was sprinkling this morning and the rain for the first time in days put me in a weird sort of writing mood..