The shadow of the dancers played against the stucco wall. The taller figure said something and a peal of laughter rang out from the woman in his arms. Jack watched them from behind a tree. In one hand he held a cigarette he had been sneaking before going into the house. It was burning down between his fingers now, forgotten.

His Celia was swaying in the arms of his best friend, Geoff. Jack now understood murderous rage. Gripping the trunk of the tree until his hand trickled with blood, he forced himself to keep his eyes on the intertwined figures. He knew things had not been right with them this last year. She had started turning away from his touch.

Now he stood in his hiding place watching as Geoff bent to kiss her lips. In one instant, as clear as any fantasy he had ever had, he saw himself striding back to his jeep, pulling out the .45 pistol stashed under the spare tire and blowing them away. He pulled the keys out of his jean pocket and held them, his hand clenching and unclenching.