Clarity

         The song, "Stand by Your Man," blares on the stereo. I feel the bruises on my face as I scream the lyrics between shotgun blasts. Five shots just aren't enough, so I beat his remains with the stock until my muscles are sore. Shaking, I take the lamp from the end table and pour the kerosene, dousing my nightshirt. I light a match. Something warm to come home to when the nights are cold and lonely. Sometimes it's hard to be a woman.