Ripples float across the glassy lake. Moonlight shivers in their wake. She watches the circles grow farther and wider; the flickering fireflies the only witnesses to the growing target beneath her.
She hadn’t been out here in almost a decade. It was so much more peaceful all alone. No stench of whiskey, no groping hands, no muffled protests. She leans her head back, smiles at the stars and breathes for the first time in years. Her eyelids flutter closed as the mossy air fills her lungs; the only sound, the hum of cicadas in the trees.
She sways along with the boat to the rhythm of the waning ripples. In another minute the lake will stretch out in glassy silence, the target absorbed by the shores, and no one will know she’s buried him here beneath the boat where he’d first buried himself in her.
There’ll be no final words, no returning to ashes or to dust. His whiskey filled pores will bloat and his swollen flesh will become a feast for the bottom dwellers. He’s among friends now. And she is free. Free to live. Free to breathe. Free of him.