Once more Trowa lost it all: his friends, his love, his home: his life!
Sure, his body was still unharmed, but his soul, his hope was lost. All he has was a name and even that doesn't belong to him.
He was lonesome.
Everything was taken away from him in just one moment. He had to protect them.
He failed.
It could never be the same again.
Memories and pain was all he remain. Again and again he see the explosion, the debris, the dead bodys. For hours he slowly ramble along the street through the desert.
He already heard the sound from a far. The car get closer in an constant speed. It reached his position when it slow down. A old car, open, roomy and clean.
The young couple stopped and mean him to get in.
Without thinking he do.
There Luck overrasiate even the glaring sun in the sky. Cheerfulness speaks from their words, hope and confidence reflected in their wishs. Without hesitation they speak about their future.
The car was filled with their laughter, it resounds in his ears.
They don't know sorrow and pain. They had the best time in their life.
They didn't know the senselessness, the despair and the loneliness life could be.
They want to get married, they have a house, a job, they want childeren. The young woman pointed proud at her arched abdomen.
They are (were?) happy, they are (were?) in love. (tenses are a real problem to me as you can see)
His expression get hard and cold.
After hours they stop for a break. They get out of the car together.
Trowa griped his backpack.
The Luck of the couple seemed to be perfect. They kissed tenderly, exchanged loving words.
He know that would not last forever. It would never be the same.
Pain stays on forever, but Luck vanished away.
His own hopelessly wake up a deep pity for the two creatures. So, as the dark thunder-clouds that appeard in high speed at the bright horizon, misery would threaten their happiness.
As the up coming wind it would push in their life.
His pity grow.
They were deplorable creatures, unsuspecting and helpless against the abyss of their future.
The hair in his face shining in the pre-thunder sunlight. Tears appeared in his eyes as he took the weapon out of his bag. The first lightning jerked over the fare away horizon. A squall of wind pushed his hair shortly up.
Each one an aimed shot.
The flash from the muzzle goes down in another lightning. The last shot died away in the first thunder. Simultaneous to the singing bodys a tear ran out of his eye.
He helped them.
They would never lost their luck, their love. They were hopeful and happy, together for ever.
Just as the first heavy raindrops touched the warm dead bodys he steered the car on the road.
Out of the radio sounded the news: "There' s a killer an the road …".
Carelessly he takes a cassette out of his shirt-pocket and insert it to the player: "Riders an the storm…".