Sunday, February 10, 2008

Broken

He sat hunch-backed on the rocks watching the waves wash over the shore, the evening sun refracted through the shards of his broken life. His eyes rested on the gun that lay between his feet. Emotions washed over him - guilt, anger, and even a mild sense of satisfaction at the look in her face when it happened. It almost made it worth it. Almost ..

The gun was cool now, having had its day in the sun. He cradled it in his palm, letting its deadly weight play on his nerves. It mocked him - all his life he had been the golden boy - the straight-A student, phd, great job, beautiful wife - yes, life had made a mockery of him, and the gun was the only thing that had the nerve to say it to his face. It was as though his entire life had been one big charade leading up to this very day - to find her naked, writhing body in bed ...

He had done the right thing. He knew it. The gun knew it.

It felt cold against his temple. And then he heard the sirens ringing ...

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