Hal toyed with the cognac bottle as he longingly remembered the family he was no longer a part of. The love he no longer would share---with her.
Hauntingly, her face traveled through his mind, like echoes desperately floating away in a dark cavern. Soft, pleading tones glided all about him calling out "...and there I'll rot, for the rest of my life, with those ---whose --- lives---are ---lonely too..."
As he watched the cigarette smoke wistfully escape from his lips, Hal lurched forward. Quickly, he grasped the gun and fired point blank into the side of his temple.
The violin musingly played as the last notes from the sad song slowly disappeared. A shattered .45 caliber fell to the floor. Hal's burned hand ever so slowly fell onto the desk, as his blood splattered skull sprang forward, finally resting upon the letter from his son.
The crimson tide of warm blood flowed forth, slowly
obscuring the whispering words.
|