He had always wanted to be a writer, that she remembered. She used to sit next to him on the front porch and watch as his seemingly genius hand sprawled words across a page creating story after story. She had been his biggest fan all along, and she was the one who had embraced him when his first book was published. She watched him now, sitting at his desk glaring in to the computer screen. The image of what he had become frightened her. His once incredibly adorable brown curls had been shaven completely away, his blue eyes had stopped gazing happily at things. Now he just glared in to his computer screen, day after day after day.

She had been so ecstatic when he had asked her to marry him. His career had just started taking off and producers were asking to make some of his best-selling novels in to movies. He had proposed to her in a canoe, just the two of them, rocking gently back and forth under the soft light of the moon. He had told her it was over two years later, over the phone, from his trailor on the set of his new movie. She blamed it on fame. Fortune. His love for writing. That love had always been greater than his love for her. Something inside of her had told her that someday he would want her back, and so she always had made it a point to live near him, the option would always be there for him.

She was going to win him back now, for sure, either that or she would make sure he was hurt as much as he had hurt her. She had been watching and waiting all these years as his movies went from being hits, to flops. Making no money. He had become reclusive, only coming out to insult the talent of the actors and actresses that had appeared in his films. That was how she knew it was somehow his fault that those two celebrities had died. The two stars that had contributed to his most recent flop. She could feel that someday he had a plan so that he could get them all back. She knew him better than she knew herself.

She had rented a room in an apartment complex just across the street from his current residence. She had put a desk with a computer and a pair of super sharp binoculars right in front of the window that faced his computer. He was there so often, she watched his face. Sharing his moods with him. Contemplating a time when soon, she would be in that room with him, once again contributing to his greatest novel of all time, his life.

Choices:

1. The woman confronts the man
2. A fan of the dead celebrities stumbles across the struggling writer and notices something fishy
3. The woman goes to the police

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