Flash
He had his reasons to push her over the ledge. Nobody would have blamed him for doing it, if they knew what he knew. But that was an impossibility-she only showed herself to him, and no one else.
Only he heard the veiled public references to his sterility. She would look at him, a look seen only by him, and then sigh for the dinner party to hear: "Maybe someday we'll have kids."
She laughed with other men, and went out of her way to tell him how beautiful their children were. She would look in his eyes and smile as she said it.
She mocked his dreams to make a go of it with the band. "Not good enough," she said. "No money in it, either."
She smirked at his weaknesses.
She never went to bat for him.
He had moved for her, left his friends and his mother at her behest, and she had truly expected it. She never acknowledged his sacrifices, and made none of her own.
He was a prop, a premise, a punchline.
It would be so easy to send her over the ledge to her death on the rocks below. Step forward, a quick, hard push that not even he would see. Would his hands tremble when they asked him what happened? No. Would he look into their eyes? Yes, he would.
"She lost her footing. She got too close to the edge."
It would be so easy.
And it would be the right thing to do. He knew this. She was the one who had been getting away with murder. With no God to judge us in the end, who else was going to balance the ledger? Karma wasn't going to push her off that ledge without a little help.
"So easy," he thought, his weight shifting.
She turned. "Robert, go get the camera. I left it in the car."
He was back. "What? Oh, the camera. Where is it?"
"Are you deaf, Robert? I said it's in the car."
"Oh, right." He scurried down the path, single-minded of purpose to find her damned precious camera.
8:57:36 AM 
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