It was a Tuesday like any other when our intrepid hero sat upon the steps of his once home drenched in the comforting wet presence of the water that was still free. He clenched his fists feeling the cold squish of his hands compress the air as if to squeeze it. He was tired of the way things were going. He looked up into the steel grey clouds that forced their presence into every moment of his day. His happiness was gone... His will to live had been taken from him. Until this day he thought he would never feel again. As the rain washed the only evidence that his love, his wife, had ever existed away down the stairs from the pool he had stared at for the past three days he began to shiver. Perhaps it was his body coming out of shock, or perhaps, it was just starting. He didn't attend her funeral, no that body no longer held her spirit, her smile. She was gone when the metal that was forged in the seething fires of addiction pierced her heart. He heard the shot, his reactions were so fluid and graceful as if he had done this a million times before. She staggered back from the impact clutching the bag of soil she had just bought for her flower bed. The hole in the bag hiding the wound in her chest but mimicking the blood loss as the black mixture burst from the ruptured bag causing it to become empty. He caught her. Heard her voice one last time. "I love you" it said as she closed her eyes. He kissed her forehead as if to say goodnight but he couldn't speak as his heart cried out to hearken to the creator himself for a brief reprieve from this terror. But the world and his life went silent. He was free... yes but, he was a prisoner in his constrained mind seeking not revenge, but knowledge of one single question. Why? It was a Tuesday like... any.. other.