"Look, baby. Here it is: it's done, see? Great fun, like I said, but it's done. Gone. Burned out like the hulls of hell. I'm shoving off."
That one did it. The woman was suddenly aware of it. He could tell that by the way her eyes shot open and then dulled quickly. That's the way they all act at first. They get over it, of course, but at first it's always like that.
He watched her get to her feet. Admiringly. He still appreciated the neat little figure she had. Still admitted she was a doll to look at. He watched her go to a black metallic desk against a wall. Open the center drawer. He said protesting: "Baby, I don't want that bracelet back I gave you. Hell, that's a souvenir. Keep it. When old Artie gives a gal something he means it."
"I'm not giving back the bracelet, Arthur." The woman's hand went into the drawer, came out again. The hand held a heat gun. "No, Arthur. Not the bracelet."
"Baby!" Utter shock laved the handsome man's features.
"You wanted goodbye, Arthur? All right. If that's the way you want it. If you're sure."
"For God's sake....!"
"The night of the big sleep, Arthur." Her finger jerked on the heat trigger.
The man was only human after all. His hands came clutching tight, pressing frantically at a spot about where his navel would be. But it was late for that, and when he fell it was straight forward and down.
The woman looked at the handsome black waves of his hair. Death doesn't change that. No, not immediately, it doesn't. She sobbed once and fainted.