With horror, she touched the gun tucked in her black sweat shirt’s pocket. It brought a glaze of sweaty moisture to her neck and back and she pushed the hood of her shirt from her head.
“God, it’s bright out here,” she complained.
Standing up, she walked to a nearby garbage can and dropped the gun into the trash. She felt a great weight lift from her shoulders and it felt good.
The city was quiet as she strolled back the way she’d first come. What had she come to the park for in the first place?
She couldn’t remember.