Freaking Fast

The Year is 2066 ...

Today I’m going to kill the love of my life. This deliberate act should not to be misinterpreted for what the sensationalistic media will surely call a crime of passion, because it isn’t. There’s nothing passionate in what I am about to do. My action is premeditated, has been planned for a long time, and will be executed for the benefit of all and my own peace of mind.
I have chosen this date for a reason.
Today is my birthday, and the anniversary of our first kiss, fifty years ago. I turn sixty-three today. Five decades ago I would have been considered an old woman, gray-haired and wrinkled, and possibly overweight. But that was then. Nowadays, thanks to the medical advances of the past fifty years, I am in the prime of my life. I have the sculpted body, the vigor, and the mental acumen of a highly-intelligent woman in her early thirties.
But I digress. Today I am a killer. A killer with a gun. I selected my weapon with care. I settled for the simplest death of them all – a bullet to the heart at close quarters …