He slammed down the volume of verse he’d been reading, stood up, and began glaring at his image reflected in the mirror above his dresser. Then he slowly opened the top drawer, pulled out his pistol, and shot himself in the face.
The bullet easily passed through the mirror, the wall behind, and then sped across the living room of the apartment next door.
Jane Farber was standing next to the window watching birds flitting about in the tree outside when she felt the sharp blow to her throat. At that same moment the window cracked and all the birds suddenly flew from the tree. And as she fell to the floor, that was the last thing she would see.