7

By the time he had rolled out of bed, gotten dressed, and slipped on his shoes, the sun was up and so were the birds. Marie had suggested he take up jogging, (he was looking a little heftier, she had said) and he had begrudgingly obliged her. She had even “surprised” him with a brand-new pair of New Balance running shoes that made his feet look like canoe shaped tennis balls. She cut a still figure in their bed as he shrugged into a windbreaker (yellow for safety) and shut the bedroom door quietly, lifting the doorknob slightly as he did so to stop the hinges from squeaking.

 In the thick stillness of the hallway, he realized he had been holding his breath. His jaw was clenched and the back of his shirt was soaked in a cold sweat. He leaned against a small table and attempted the deep breathing techniques his yoga instructor had covered the week before, but he couldn’t quite remember the steps. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his vision began to blur. The revolver was heavy in his hand so he set it down and checked his pockets for his keys. His pulse was deafening in the heavy silence.

 The birds had stopped chirping, and he wondered how things could have possibly gone so wrong.