Philip Shaw coughed lightly, blood frothing from the corner of his lips.
He leaned weakly on the office chair, his voice very low: "You're right."
Once intimate lovers, now turned into enemies.
Ellen Candi pushed open the window, climbed up without turning back, and went down from the third floor along the roots of the wall.
She smelled the metallic scent of blood, the fragrance of osmanthus, and the cold chill of the night that stabbed at one's heart. She raised her hand, fiercely wiped the blood and tears from her face, and quickly left before the people at the Shaw Residence noticed her.
She felt sad and confused; she couldn't go see Eric Candi anymore, afraid she might shoot him again.
She wanted to find Aldana Candi, to hug her, to cry and say sorry, but she didn't even know where she was.
The cold wind blew gently, taking away the last bit of warmth from her body. Ellen Candi sniffed, tightened her clothes, hugged her arms, and walked toward the road.
*
