lionthetiger
The sheet of paper floated in the window, down side streets, through intersections, underneath trees spilling their lives, finally coming to a halt against his face. He pulled it down and read it. "The END IS COMINg!" it said, capitilization askew.
His flannel shirt was hanging, draped from the chair. Bare chested and bloody, he lay upon the floor, blood pooling around him, soaking into his jeans. There were 30 bullet wounds in his corpse. All this for a girl.