She hadn’t been in the barn since the passing of her father. That was ten years ago.
She stepped into the gloom, stopping to allow her eyes to adjust. She noticed the myriad of dust motes dancing their way to the floor. Sneezing would come later.
Weaving her way among the boxes, she happened upon a stack of books. Beside them sat a pair of work boots and a scarf. She slipped off her own shoes and slid her feet into the worn out leather and draped the scarf around her neck. She reminicsed about the rough kisses and sharp smacks she used to receive.
Opening her eyes, she knelt down and sifted through the volumes. She was surprised at the choices.
Then she noticed a manuscript, yellowing with age on the dirty barn floor. She picked it up. Tears streamed down her face. Too bad he’d wasted such talent in violence and abuse.
Removing the last remnants of her father’s life, she stepped into the sunshine. She smiled through the tears drying on her cheeks. She was almost sorry she had killed the bastard.