It was all a very finite experience. or that's how Min planned for it to be. A beginning and an end, all future existence of the experience existing in the mind, replayed only in memory.
But suddenly, beginning gone and ending receding slowly into the past's domain, finite nature of the experience seemed too small, to mortal for her liking. For a moment, an experience's length, Min had felt infinite, so while she had planned for this to be just the once, she knew, even as she watched the red on her hands turn pink down the drain, that she would kill again.
She replaced her gloves, turned off the tub's faucet. She was smiling as she stepped over the body and the smile didn't fade as she locked the backdoor, placed the key beneath the left back plant's pot. Min fitted her Liften's gardening cap back over her mop of hair. She whistled as she finished watering the hydrangeas.
As a child, Max suffered from severe headaches, sometimes lasting hours and that would leave him in tears by the end. After six months passing his fourth birthday, his mother found that only classical music could bring about any respite from his pains.
By the age of eleven, Max was sleeping every night listening to classical music, and two hours daily playing violin, but public school was another problem entirely. At school, he recieved endless taunts from the bullies, who called him names like "fathead" and would hit him in the back of his head.
One day when his aches were especially bad, and the bullies were particularly brutal on his head, the pain became too intense, and he blacked out. When he woke up a few seconds later, there was blood on his hands and the bullies were on the ground around him, motionless.
He seemed to awake 12 years later, recently released from the mental hospital. The van dropped him off at his mother's house, but she wasn't home.
Min watched the van from Cedar Hills Mental Hospital deposit a young crazy on the lawn of his new (old) home and she overwatered the flowers. She caught herself staring, blushed, and looked back to what she was doing. The ground stared black at her, and the water just flowed away from the mound of dirt that was beneath the hydrangeas and onto the lawn.
She looked up again to see the crazy try the door, but it was locked. She smiled at his confusion and frowned at a memory. her own mother still lived at CHMH. Min hadn't visited in at least 3 years. Her mother often had a similar expression: confused, distraught.
She packed up her tool, supplies, and went to help a fellow nutcase. She made sure to look both ways before crossing.