The shower abruptly stopped, the humming continuing on for a moment or two. The glass door popped open, revealing feminine perfection impossible to describe. Black hair, black eyes, perfect skin that glowed with the warm mocha tones of Middle Eastern or possibly African heritage, and a flawless figure whose measurements achieved the biologically optimum ratios instinctively sought by human males.

No towel was handy in the office restroom, but apparently none was needed, as the woman’s skin was almost immediately dry and her thick waves of glossy black hair were bereft of moisture only a few moments later.

Stepping gracefully across the small room, the vision of loveliness regarded a neatly folded stack of clothing. Slim, strong fingers plucked a dull grey dress from the pile, holding it up to a critical view that revealed it to be a shapeless sack. She slipped it over her head, foregoing any underthings, and turned to study her reflection in the glass of the shower door.

The horrible dress did little to hide the curves of the body underneath it, although the lady frowned at her reflection in distaste. Then a thought occurred to her and her distaste became the reluctant regret of undertaking an unpleasant task. After a moment, her frown evened out, her expression becoming one of determination.

Instantly everything about her began to change. Her slightly above average height visibly diminished to something under average and her slim figure filled out into a shape commonly referred to as middle-aged spread.

The lustrous black hair became dry, gray, and brittle, the perfect skin wrinkled and leathery. Long legs became short, toned muscle turned to veiny gristle, and a bosom that would melt male minds sagged and drooped.

She frowned at the total result, yet nodded once in reluctant satisfaction, sighing to herself as she slipped still-dainty feet into plain flat shoes. Besides her feet, the only other physical feature unchanged was the black of her bottomless eyes.

Picking up a largish plain pocketbook, the much-changed woman walked out of the bathroom, across the lobby, and out the unlocked door, her stride changing from confident and athletic to a shortened, unstable hobble as she moved. It was as if her personality had changed enough to catch up with her body. The bells strung on the door tinkled merrily as it swung closed behind her, shutting in the unspeakable horror of the gore-strewn office.

The office of death sat quiet for a time, the hours of night clicking past till just a few were left before dawn. A rented Toyota Prius ghosted onto the street, electric motors making little noise as it pulled to a stop two doors down. A slim figure, all in black, slipped out of the car, closing the door with a soft click. The car’s interior lights never came on.