She walked slowly into her backyard, wearing her favorite now ripped t-shirt, jeans, and her heart.  Attempting to forget the violent scene that repeatedly ran itself through her mind, she stared serenely up at the bright morning sky.  Few clouds grazed the azure pasture, and the sun was soft and seemed welcoming.

Her bare feet absorbed the dew from the grass appreciatively, and the everdampening hems of her pants felt soothing to her burning skin.  To tell the truth, every inch of her skin was consumed with frustration.  She screwed up her face in irritation as she sank into the dewey, blurry green that was below her, and tried her hardest to beat those valient memories that still seemed to stain her face.  Somehow she knew it didn't really matter... that even if her hysteric sobs never reached him, that it'd be okay.  

The few tiny clouds seemed to feel as though they should acknowledge this revelation of hers.  Warm showers pursued, and yet the sun stayed.  The tepid drops washed away the stains and bruises on her face, and she finally found it possible to look on.

He stood in the window, staring, with glazed eyes.  He watched her.  He then turned to himself, and pulled the trigger.