Two framed pictures lurk in the shadows.  In one, a handsome, formally dressed couple displays self-satisfied smiles.  In the other, the woman is flanked by two adolescent boys; all are in tennis togs and brandishing rackets.

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       The lamplight falls upon an older but still beautiful version of the woman in the pictures.  She lies on the bed, head propped up on pillows, eyes closed, a silk nightgown revealed above an elegant duvet pulled up to her abdomen.

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       Cotton sheers pulled aside an open window flutter in a gentle, oxygen-rich breeze.  Most of the light rays piercing the screen’s mesh perish in the blackness of the outdoors, but some highlight a small polished disk with a tiny black hole at its center--a silencer--purposed to silence her.