A New Idea.

Klea watched the house quietly, from the shadows of the forest. The trees moved around her, like extended limbs, sighing like weary elders.
Inside the house, silhouettes shifted, moving about every-day actions. Brewing coffee. Frying eggs. Humming to oneself whilst going about day-to-day chores.
One tree's emaciated limb brushed lightly at Klea's ankle, as if seeking attention. Klea bent down and snapped the offensive nuisance in two. Coolly.
Her target was a white haired man. Willowy, graceful. Ageless.
Through a tinted paned window, Klea could see him gliding across the floors of the house. Oblivious to the impending doom on his doorstep: Klea.
A vicious, cruel smile curved Klea's lips. She knew she looked cold, dangerous.
And so she should. She was an assassin. One of the best. And she was about to make a kill.