It was a throw down moment, at least from one corner. She was a thousand miles distant and within, he with weapon loaded, cocked. So be it from the turret, whereupon he peered. She only carried on.
As his finger stroked the trigger, it helped to know that the blame was his. At least he deserved all this. She not at all.
She received what she expected. Not more. And into her life she proceeded.
He felt the beads running down their laid tracks and falling into unknown. Finger shakes.