Bang.
A red flower blooms in her head.
Bang.
A red flood drowns her blouse.
Bang.
She's dead.
The hard metal of the gun had felt heavy in his hand.
Now he couldn't even feel it.
Now she was dead.
Bang.
Gone were the memories of sunny childish limbs waving in the air.
Gone were the I Love Lucy episodes on repeat.
Gone the love of gone off bananas and kisses in heat.
No more desires.
No more