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"Window of Emotions" - continued

          “How could she? The immoral, untrustworthy hussy! How could she do this to me? How could she abandon me for that wretched heap of muscular mass? As if Aaron were all that attractive!” The simple thought of her lips pressed against the lascivious mouth of that knave made my blood burn. Slamming my jacket into a chair, I entered my room in time to see a car full of jubilant teenagers playing loud music pass by my window. “Those poor fools,” I thought to myself, “I bet they don’t’ even know the unthinkable malice that women are capable of.” Intrigued by the vista from my window, I watched for quite some time. The sun had set only a few minutes prior, casting an eerie purplish glow on the sky. The shadows of an old widow walking home from work streaked onto the street from a flickering streetlight. Across the field, several droopy-eyed houses frowned at me, penetrating me to the depths of my existence. Glancing down the street, the aimless wanderings of a weak, homeless dog began to dizzy me, adding to the throbbing pain inside my head. The crescent moon was rising now, along with the first visible stars of the misty evening. A thick fog blinded my further observations, and it was just as well. My tear-soaked eyes had grown too watery to remain open. My head a bit too heavy, my limbs a bit too weak, my mind a bit too cluttered, my mouth too dry to speak, I raised the barrel of the cold steel to my temple. Tonight I would sleep soundly, safely, eternally.

          As the shot rang off, the blood splattered on the windowpane. The now brightly risen moon was too late to save me from the grasp of my emotions. The view from the window was the last recorded memory that would make my life unworthy of completion.

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