An elite event planner receives a large check after successfully orchestrating a royal ball. Walking home from the event that afternoon, he passes a decadent jewelry shop. He is feeling accomplished, and decides to spontaneously enter the jewelry store, money in hand. As he walks through the door, the clerk greets him and eagerly informs him of a newest delivery: a collection of fine gold and silver chains. He is persuaded to view the chains, and follows the clerk to the glass display in which they are kept. One immediately catches his eye - an eighteen inch piece made of twenty two karat gold. He becomes instantly infatuated with the fine necklace, and makes the purchase after little deliberation. The clerk then packages the chain in a sleek white box, thanks him for his purchase, and tells him that as it is closing time, he must kindly leave the shop. The event planner does as he is told, and walks out onto the sidewalk. As he continues his walk, all he can think about is his new chain. Unable to keep this burgeoning obsession at bay even for the eight blocks to his apartment, he takes the chain out of its box and fastens it around his neck. Moments later, he receives a text message. It’s his husband, berating him for taking so long to return home. He had promised to be back an hour earlier, before the unexpected stop at the jewelry store. Motivated by a new sense of guilt driven urgency, his confident swagger turns into a quick jog. He opts to skip his usual route in favor of an improvised detour, one which weaves through unfamiliar alleyways and dimly lit backstreets. As he picks up speed in a narrow passage leading from the back door of a Chinese restaurant to an open courtyard, a figure suddenly blocks the way. “Gimme ya bloody chain or I’ll pull ya fuckin’ eyes out”, barks the figure in a thick cockney accent. He had forgotten to tuck his chain amidst the sudden commotion. The figure lunges into the light towards the event planner, revealing his stubbly face and short, stocky build. In his hand he wields a carving knife. The event planner dodges the attack with a sharp lunge to the left, slipping on the wet asphalt in the process. Now with his back pressed against the brick wall, the man again approaches, provoked to hysteria by his first missed attempt. The event planner desperately grasps at the cold concrete for any object. In the mere moment before the carving knife comes plunging into his neck, he lifts a set of discarded chopsticks from behind him, closes his eyes, and thrusts it blindly forward. The carving knife drops, and the assailant topples to his side, screaming in agony. Blood rushes from his left eye socket while his left eyeball rolls down the dirty gutter into the courtyard. The event planner tucks his chain, steps over the man’s writhing body, and walks the final block to his house. Before ringing the doorbell, he pulls a notebook and pen from his coat pocket. He turns to the most recently marked page, right after the one titled Royal Ball Guest List. On this page is a carefully written agenda: receive check, purchase chain, rush home, kill attacker, enjoy dinner.