EPILOGUE
1
A gentle snow fell outside Peter’s cold, empty apartment as Christmas carols from the neighbor’s could be heard through the thin walls. He did not share in the joy of the season.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, staring out the window at the snow, an eviction notice and the loaded Colt 1911 in front of him. Peter moved only enough to chain smoke cigarettes, the ashtray full of pungent gray dust and crushed butts. The heat had been turned off to his apartment a few days earlier, but he sat there barely aware his fingers were as numb as his emotions had been since Angie’s death. He had already been sitting there for hours, watching the fluffy snow fall to the ground; rather than seeing the wintery picture outside, he was instead lost in a maelstrom of his own thoughts and memo
