[ WP ] An exploration of the butterfly effect : write a dramatic scene . Then , choose one tiny detail to change in the initial set-up , and play the scene out again . How drastically have things changed ?

He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September, a plate of pasta a day old between them. It was just a bit cold as he forked it down, but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She laughed at how stupid he looked with doughy tentacles hanging out of his mouth. He grinned a sauce coated grin. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other. He in a plain grey sweater, she in the white one with the red speckles. He'd puked on that one when they'd first met. She teased him, saying she could still smell it. He laughed. 
 
 
 The doorbell rang, interrupting the music he had playing in his head. He opened it. *Her ex? What's that metal thin-* he felt the heat of the bullet in the air. It flew past his unassuming face. He heard a thump from behind him, the tinkle of cutlery hitting the floor and the wet slap of pasta, halfway to mouth, following it. His face still frozen, he dropped his hands into his pockets. Desperately shuffling around as the revolver drew to a bead to his sweating forehead. 
 
 Click. 
 
 
 He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other. 
 
 
 The doorbell rang. It could n't be, he'd moved them away. It'd have to be someone else, right? Congratulating them on the move, however sudden it'd been, only the next door neighbours would know. He got up to answer the second ring, legs shaking. She asked him if he was feeling alright. The door burst open, kicked down, a revolver was drawn in the candlelight. 
 
 
 Click. 
 
 
 He sat at the tiny coffee table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. The room was empty save for two chairs and a vacant old sofa. He said that each other was all they needed. He'd scrounged up enough money to buy a house in the country, he'd scrounged up enough courage to face her. She agreed, a bit hesitant, but he could feel her glow of approval underneath. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, he would follow her to the end of time. There they sat in the dark of a candle, she seemed a little gloomy leaving the city but she tried her best for him. They sat sharing leftovers from yesterday, when they were still in the city. He'd wanted to leave as soon as possible. 
 
 
 There was a knock on the door, breaking the conversation. His heart sank. He sat there, motionless, with noodles impaled on a fork in the air between plate and mouth. She got up, he started coughing out sobs, trying to quickly down the food before it happened. He heard a gunshot down the hall. 
 
 
 Click. 
 
 
 They were at a train station, he'd convinced her that his family wanted to meet her. That they'd be ecstatic to see her again. His little sister especially. She had blushed at first but followed up with a sarcastic hand wave, pretending to be flush with embarrassment. She saw right through him, but he'd asked for it and she did n't mind all that much. She had a paid vacation saved up at the office, so they did n't mind either. Together they stood on the platform wrapped in their scarves and their jackets, giggling giddily. Both of them were filled with anxiety, but with different kinds. He heard the station bell chime out its robotic ping, the train was coming in. He gestured for them to get ready. She, with false haughtiness, obliged, holding out her hand for him to lead her. He knelt dramatically to accept, the train hurriedly chugging along. 
 
 
 A rushing passerby knocked into her absentmindedly, they turned to apologise but it could n't be heard over the rush of the train flying past them. The lights flew past rhythmically, illuminating his ghastly face and still outstretched hand in eerie yellow rectangles, one by one.
