Disclaimer: I do not own Taggart

Prompt: Wish

Wish – verb; to desire something that cannot or probably will not happen.

He sits hunched in the corner booth of the coffee house, staring fixatedly at the boutique across the street. He makes no movements throughout the day, only raising his hand slightly to draw the attention of the waitress as he drains cup after cup. His energies are spent in surveillance, observing her, as she goes about the duties of her occupation. In her lunchbreak, she crosses the street to the coffee house, and sits and talks with the waitress. He turns in his seat, resting his chin on the back, admiring the way the sunlight dances through her hair and across her cheek, revelling in the sound of her voice. As she shuts her boutique for the day, he slowly rises from his seat, handing the waitress today's total, before following in her wake as she walks to her apartment. Dissolving into the shadows, discreetly he slips inside her apartment after her. Limbs jerking somewhat as a result of his caffeine influx, he tenderly whispers her name. She turns sharply, her face reflecting expressions of fear and confusion. He moves toward her, eager to clasp her to him in a comforting embrace, but she seems to misunderstand, roughly pushing him away. He manages to grab her, but she starts to scream, so he must place his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. His grip tightens as she continues to struggle, until she stops abruptly and goes limp in his arms. Stealing the kiss he wished from her in life, he tenderly lowers her to the floor, before clinically removing all traces of his presence from her apartment. As he turns to leave, he whispers her name reverently; slightly forlorn that he had no choice but to dispose of her. His period of mourning is but momentary, as he makes his way determinedly from her flat into the heart of the city. Entering the atrium of his workplace, he spies a woman leaving for the day, and in that moment decides she is worthy of his admiration. The woman's physicality is remarkable in its likeness to her, and she seems to reflect none of the stresses and strains of her profession. He hears her name called by raucous colleagues, excited by the end of the workday and he repeats it in his head, committing it to memory. Fading into the background as she passes by him, he murmurs to himself, anticipating the day she hears his voice.

"Good night, Miss Reid."