He slumped on the edge of the empty, rumpled bed, unbearably lonely since she passed.
Gone were the applause and cheers past; the once proud star of stage, reduced to this sad silhouette of a broken man. No more stage lights. He was moodily backlit by a tattered lamp in their dingy room; a depressing amber tomb. A perfect set for the final act, he thought.
Too much time on the road chasing fame, to belatedly realize she had been his everything.
Now there was nothing, except what he clutched tightly in his two trembling hands—her ring…and the gun.
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