The Dancer and The Grey White Ink Ghost

All Jesse ever wanted to do was dance. South Florida was worlds away from the mountainous land from which she came. The beaches shimmered with gold — gold which the devil worked hard and fast to gather every night. He sprinkled just enough over his pitch-black playground to create his very own goldmine. After all, who wouldn't navigate through a little hell with that promise of heaven? Jesse drove to work that Sunday night. It was early, and it was quiet. There was only one occupied dinner table. The shark observed her prey in that distant water. She examined the men as she swam closer. Two chairs were offered. Jesse chose. The hunt was on.