A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met this guy whom she did not know.  She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy, she believed him to be just that!  She fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him.  A few days later she killed her sister. 

Question: What is her motive in killing her sister?

Give this some thought, before you answer. Then proceed.

I should turn this into a series.

Your Dominant Intelligence is Logical-Mathematical Intelligence

You are great at finding patterns and relationships between things. Always curious about how things work, you love to set up experiments. You need for the world to make sense - and are good at making sense of it. You have a head for numbers and math ... and you can solve almost any logic puzzle. You would make a great scientist, engineer, computer programmer, researcher, accountant, or mathematician.

Hey, I can handle that.

My father and a friend went to Rome, Italy. It was planned some time ago and provoked the typical reactions: Be careful; beware of pick-pockets. Stereotyped stuff like that. I don't know why, but it's the thing that everybody associates with Italy.

So they went to Rome and everything was fine. Great weather, great people, great food. One day they took the subway to the Colloseum. The train was packed. About one station before my father and his friend wanted to leave, a woman noticed my father's camera bag.  She told him to beware of pick-pick-pockets. "Yeah, sure" he answered disbelievingly.

But then, right before they left, he sensed something and reached for his purse. It was gone. When he exclaimed "Somebody stole my purse" something fell on the floor. It was his purse. Emptied. The thief was thorough. After he left the train, my Dad checked his pockets and bags: the zipper on his camera bag was open, all Velcro fasteners of his 7 pockets were open, and -- and that's the kicker -- his pant's zipper (the one that covers the crotch) was open too!

On top of that, later that evening my father and his friend went to a bar where the waiter passed them false money.

Now, more than a month later, my father can laugh about the whole incident. Since his passport and other papers were not in the purse, he only lost some money. And the false money was spent on souvenirs.

I never thought I'd say it, but when you happen to visit Italy, well, beware of pick-pockets. Oh, and find somebody who accepts bad money.

Von der Diktatur des Proletariats zur Diktatur des Geldes - BDI

hätte für meinen Geschmack gut gepasst.