If you ever shoot yourself, I'll write your name on the bullet so you will be the last thing to pass through my head.

Heather took a box out of her left jeans pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She put it in between his lips and rummaged around for a lighter. A hand came out of nowhere holding a lighted matchstick.

"Twenty years, Heather. Twenty-fucking-years, and I find you here. Of all places." The hand dropped the match and it left a mark on the parquet floor where it landed. Heather know that voice, she had heard it all her life, but she was afraid to turn around.

"Look at me, Heather." She couldn't. Would Angie still look the same? She still sounded the same, only her voice was a little lower, more mature. More...intense.

She opened his mouth and the cancer stick fell, joining the match on the ground. She felt two hands snake around her waist and hot breath on her left ear.

"You know how I love the way you look in a sweater." She looked down at the hands wrapped around her. They looked exactly as they did all those years ago. Would they feel the same? She put her arms on Angie's, and fell hard and fast for her once again.

"Look at me again, Heather." But she didn't want to. She pulled free and ran to the open window, pulling herself through it with surprising vigor and energy for someone so thin. Angie didn't stop her, but her hand was still reaching out. Heather closed her eyes, both to stop the tears and to to save herself the trauma of seeing the ground get nearer, before she jumped.

Angie took a gun out from her pocket, and a bullet out from the other. She remembered something from two decades ago. Before she left Heather.

"I know you collect them, so I got this made for you," Heather put a box in her hands. She smiled and opened it. Inside there was a bullet with 'Heather' engraved on it.

"Honey, it's gorgeous." Angie pulled her close with one arm, the other still holding the box, and made to kiss her. But Heather put her palms on her chest. Her voice grew solemn.

"If you ever decide to shoot yourself, I want you to shoot yourself with this. So that I will be the last thing to pass through your head." Angie stared.

"Honey, that's crazy." Heather's face broke out into a grin.

"Which is why you should never shoot yourself, you idiot. Or I'll hunt your ghost down and kill you again, you got it?" They both laughed.

Angie loaded the gun, and put the mouth of it on the side of her head. She pulled the trigger, and fell to the floor, dead even before she touched the ground. Five storey's below, a dead body of a woman lay skewered on the metal fencing.