When John finally snapped, it was a welcome change. Gone were the taut feelings of anxiety and dismay. He had tried everything in pursuit of such brazen relief. It was the bunnies that finally did it.

While it took place in a day, the essential elements had long been gathering, following him in trails and wisps along his way.

That morning he finally witnessed what he had long sensed. He understood the dull ache reflected in his wife’s eyes. Her life was not her own. He heard his neighbor’s wife berating him next to an open car door. His dignity all but erased. He managed the dangerous selfishness in the haste of traffic. He saw the pain of the barista who dealt with the ceaseless demands of the deluded. She stood a non-person in both function and consideration. At work more of the same. The snide comments passed in open delight. Groups formed to exclude and to order.

He hurried to his machine. He drove to the far corner to where he had stacked the pipes. He brought his carrot muffin as he descended from the cab. He had made them their home, both accessible and safe.

He took a knee and saw their blood and then their bodies. Around their bodies, at his feet lay the nails ejected from the gun.

He felt the blood rushing to his head and blur his vision. He found freedom.