Donny Sebastian slumped in the car and stared up at his house. He felt weary, but not just any kind of weary, as from too much work or being over-tired. He felt a bone crushing weariness that came from a life unfulfilled. He sighed and exited the car, still looking up at the house, the house he bought for his Margarita. He looked at the lovely plantings around the house and followed them as if in a trance. He could almost hear Margarita’s laughter coming from the late blooming Monkshoods, asters and mums. They seemed to mock him.
