Clockwise Rain

He picks up the gun. He wonders, Why is she bothering me now? It’s over. The papers
are signed, the property divided, the goodbyes said.
He sighs one more time, and then puts down the gun. He checks his pocket for his
keys and wallet and then walks out of the kitchen. At the door, he pauses and turns back
to regard the gun and the glass of wine. He smiles. They’ll still be here when he gets
back…
III
The young executive leans against the lamppost on the corner of 5th and Main.
His vision wavers as the five beers he imbibed at the bistro and two Seconal tablets
he’d stolen from his secretary’s desk work their magic. He loosens his tie.
The young exec waits for the right moment. Timing is everything. He knows that one
must not only take into account all the perspectives of a situation, but one must anticipate
the unexpected.
He failed. Today, his former supervisor handed in his resignation which foiled the
young exec’s plans to fabricate the evidence he needed to set up the man for
embezzlement charges.
It would’ve never worked, he realizes. His former boss was honest and meticulous to a
fault. The partners would never believe the man stole the money, despite his messy
divorce and expensive alimony payments.
He’d kept his cool from the most of the day, through the board meeting, and then
through a conference call. Only his secretary seemed to divine that something was wrong.
He’d caught her staring at him several times through the afternoon.
Timing is everything, he repeats to himself. The young exec counts cars as they pass.
He’s waiting for the right momen for something big and flashy, like a Hummer or a
BMW X5. He might consider a bus; plenty of them whiz by at five minute intervals, but a
bus is so ordinary.
His eyelids grow heavy. The lights from passing cars sprout beams like starfish; their
tendrils brush against his eyes, his cheeks, and his lips. He hears the familiar roar of an
SUV in the distance; the urgent rumble of the engine as the vehicle speeds closer to the
intersection.
Smiling, the young exec counts; one… he straightens his tie … two… he opens his
eyes wide to welcome the shining beams of light… three… he steps off the curb…
IV
The candles glimmer over the surface of the water as the secretary slides her naked,
slender body into the tub. A rubber ducky floats by, its head comically bobs up and
down.
A tear escapes her right eye and slowly drips down the side of her face where it lands
with a soft “plop” in the water. She giggles at the sound. Plop, flop, stop… the finality of
her situation weighs upon her brow.
The stainless steel blade cuts through the water as her right hand emerges, holding
tightly to the knife’s wooden shaft. The secretary leisurely bends the blade back and forth