Note: I reread my story Five Minutes and thought that it should have been different, so I decided to submit an adapted version. I'd love to hear, which one you prefer. Thanks.
---oo--- "911, where's the emergency?"
"Uhm..., I want to report a fatal shooting"
Smiling happily, he drove his car on to the bridge on his way to his fiancee. He had promised her, that beautifully sexy woman, that one day he would buy her that wedding ring she always drooled over at at the jeweller's shop, the one with the big pink diamond. After two years of working double shifts, taking on every odd job available and saving every cent that could be saved, he finally had the money to buy it. And now he was driving to her appartment, the ring safely tucked away in his inside pocket, his heart beating in overdrive and his mind filled with anticipation. Finally he could get down on his knees, present her the ring and ask her, if she would marry him.
Humming a happy song, he was driving his old pick-up truck across the bridge, when suddenly brakes screeched, warning lights flashed and traffic came to a standstill. Five minutes passed with no movement possible in any direction.
Next to him, inside a taxi, something unusual caught his attention. In the backseat a couple was making passionate love, oblivious of the world around them, completely unaware they had an audience. Five long minutes he watched the pair, as if hypnotized, not able to look away. Then, as traffic started to move again, the acceleration of the taxi caused the man to partly roll off the woman. She, suddenly aware of her surroundings looked up. Shocked, he looked straight into the bright blue eyes of the woman he thought was waiting for him at home, the woman, for which he had sacrificed every spare moment of his time and for which he had lived like Scrooge for the past two years, to be able to buy her that ring. He didn't notice the wreckage and the flashing blue and red lights he passed, exiting the bridge. He could not remember, where he drove and what he passed by as he drove on. He only knew, he ended up at the front door of her appartment, where he let himself in, sat down on the couch and waited for her.
Later that night they had fought and bitter words had sounded through the house. It had ended when he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. He had walked through the night, just to be away, and to think. Just before dawn he had returned to her appartment. She was asleep now, her face still marked with smeared make-up, ruined by the tears. And he just sat there, motionless, holding his pistol in his lap. He had thought about leaving a note, but who would care? Slowly, almost reluctantly he raised his weapon and aimed it at the forehead. Taking a deep breath he squeezed the trigger, a loud bang shredded the calm of the night and then everything went silent.
Nothing moved for almost an hour. Then he raised himself from the edge of the bed, dropped the pistol, carefully placed the ring, worthless now in spite of its value, on top of her lifeless body and picked up the phone.
"Uhm..., I want to report a fatal shooting"
Smiling happily, he drove his car on to the bridge on his way to his fiancee. He had promised her, that beautifully sexy woman, that one day he would buy her that wedding ring she always drooled over at at the jeweller's shop, the one with the big pink diamond. After two years of working double shifts, taking on every odd job available and saving every cent that could be saved, he finally had the money to buy it. And now he was driving to her appartment, the ring safely tucked away in his inside pocket, his heart beating in overdrive and his mind filled with anticipation. Finally he could get down on his knees, present her the ring and ask her, if she would marry him.
Humming a happy song, he was driving his old pick-up truck across the bridge, when suddenly brakes screeched, warning lights flashed and traffic came to a standstill. Five minutes passed with no movement possible in any direction.
Next to him, inside a taxi, something unusual caught his attention. In the backseat a couple was making passionate love, oblivious of the world around them, completely unaware they had an audience. Five long minutes he watched the pair, as if hypnotized, not able to look away. Then, as traffic started to move again, the acceleration of the taxi caused the man to partly roll off the woman. She, suddenly aware of her surroundings looked up. Shocked, he looked straight into the bright blue eyes of the woman he thought was waiting for him at home, the woman, for which he had sacrificed every spare moment of his time and for which he had lived like Scrooge for the past two years, to be able to buy her that ring. He didn't notice the wreckage and the flashing blue and red lights he passed, exiting the bridge. He could not remember, where he drove and what he passed by as he drove on. He only knew, he ended up at the front door of her appartment, where he let himself in, sat down on the couch and waited for her.
Later that night they had fought and bitter words had sounded through the house. It had ended when he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. He had walked through the night, just to be away, and to think. Just before dawn he had returned to her appartment. She was asleep now, her face still marked with smeared make-up, ruined by the tears. And he just sat there, motionless, holding his pistol in his lap. He had thought about leaving a note, but who would care? Slowly, almost reluctantly he raised his weapon and aimed it at the forehead. Taking a deep breath he squeezed the trigger, a loud bang shredded the calm of the night and then everything went silent.
Nothing moved for almost an hour. Then he raised himself from the edge of the bed, dropped the pistol, carefully placed the ring, worthless now in spite of its value, on top of her lifeless body and picked up the phone.
