Excerpt from an As-Yet-Untitled Supernatural Noir

Captions from Page One of a 40's style comic script, to explain the dramatic tone:

She was a study in watercolor perfection.

She was Monet lilies adrift in the mad charcoal swirl of the city, a smudge of brilliant color that never failed to enliven the stark gray of a midwinter afternoon. She was the faint whisper of remembered melody that sets you humming on an early Sunday morning. She was starlight, and dew shine, and the first hint of rosy dawn after a night that seemed eternal. She was graceful as a soap bubble on the breeze, and as fragile; she was here for a moment, and gone.

She was mine for an hour.
She was dead in my arms.