It started one Friday night, not so long ago
The lights were out, and the moon shone bright
The stars took turns and danced around the moon.
I sat by my window and wondered how long it would take him to get home.
How much longer would I have to survive? There was not a lot of time to ponder my thoughts; I’d come to a decision. I am all in, too late to consider the cost. I hate it must come to this.
I heard the car as it crept into the yard, the sound of a thousand lightning bugs as they took to the sky; even the bugs know to fly away or die.
I sat by my window and wondered still how long it would take, will I be able to kill.
So much has happened. I hate it had to come to this, but my husband has left me no choice; what else am I to do. He talks a good game, but will he ever change?
The front door is open, his footsteps in the hall. He is on his way up; it will not be much longer now.
My mind is a whirlwind, my thought all ablaze. Too late for this now; it is time to come out of this haze. My husband, my best friend, is outside the door, why hesitate? Please come in. With the gun in my hand, I point at the door. Not much longer now, he will be lying on the floor. I will have to clean the carpet after his spilled blood creates a mess—no time to think about that now. I should have thought of that ahead of time, too late for such silliness, much more critical matters ahead.
The door opens; he walks in the room, a smile on his face, not even aware of his impending doom. What is that in his hand? Oh my God, he had the same plan? I saw his finger as he pulled the trigger. There was not much time; got off on shot; that was the last thing I remember.
He fell to the left. I fell on the bed. Is this how the story ends? Both of us are dead.
