Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
He watched her stumble through his morning ritual, sleep still obviously clouding her perception. From his warm cocoon of quilts on the couch, hidden in the blanket of light's absence, he could see her perfectly. The illumination of the bathroom light exenterated her like a heavenly beam of light spotlighting a choice spot of the forest's autumn floor through a canopy of trees. What was better- she didn't know he was watching. He loved watching her when she was unaware of it. No matter how well you know a person- no matter how much you love them- you will never know the same self that they know. That's why he loved catching these sparsely placed glimpses of THAT Rachel- the real Rachel.
When he had come the previous night, it had been around 2 am and he hadn't had the heart to wake her, so he had simply grabbed a few covers and settled in on the couch. He was glad now that he had.
She was beautiful in the morning.
He knew she didn't think so. No woman alive thought they were even remotely acceptable looking before 8 am, but he had never seen her look so adorable or sexy. Her skin was silky and the color of caramel from his angle. The muscles in her back and neck were defined and they stretched and contracted with every move she made. He wanted to get up, cross the room, and take her in his arms. He couldn't remember a time when he HADN'T wanted to do that, and he would, if doing so would not have blown his cover and stolen away the few precious moments like these that he cherished so much.
But there was blood. And it stained his moment, as it did the bathroom sink, spilling in drops like dew or drizzling honey.
Note: I know it's short, but I didn't have much time tonight and it was just the prologue. Plus, I wanted to leave everyone hanging! :-) Just as a reference, the Prince of Tides is a poem by Pat Conroy and is representative of Satan. That might help in your analysis of the story as it progresses.