Easy

She rolled onto her back, feeling everything. The ocean breeze. The sand. The sun. She could even feel the smallest grain of sand stuck within her bikini top.
 
 It was a delightfully relaxing day. She pulled the ear-buds free from her head, her thumb moving to the player to switch the tunes off.
 
 She sat up and looked over the beach. It wasn’t crowded. Thankfully, there were no children running about, and no pets. 
 
 Just a few adults that seemed in good health, all soaking up the sun and enjoying the surf.
 
 Today was a picture perfect day for her. 
 
 Something was still broken within her. Despite this picture perfect day, dark plans had been made for the evening. Not just the events planned for the evening, but for the aftermath.
 
 She tried reaching out for help. It didn’t work. She heard the same things all the time from a variety of different people. Some just plain ordinary folks, some professionals and doctors.
 
 She gave a sigh. It was time to get going. Get things underway.
 
 She packed up her towel, tote bag and a small cooler. Slipping her cover-up over her bikini she readied herself to head home.
 
 It was a nice walk. She would have preferred it if the sidewalks weren’t so busy, but that all came with the territory of living near the beach.
 
 Making it home, to her one bedroom apartment, she put her things away. She looked at the clock. It was almost time.
 She had a glass of wine, waiting for the sun to sink down under the horizon.
 
 And when it did, she went to her small bathroom. She had made sure everything in her home was spotless.
 
 She stripped off her cover and bikini, setting the faucets on the bathtub to flow. Not too hot. Actually, probably rather cool to most. 
 
 When full, she brought her wine glass with her, settling it on the edge of the tub next to the straight razor.
 
 She toyed with both items. The stemware and razor. She sipped down the last of her wine, setting the glass a good bit away, the straight razor in her hand.
 
 She set the deadly sharp item against the flesh of her arm. She pressed it in. She made a few hesitation marks before finally taking it all the way.
 
 It didn’t hurt as much as expected. It stung more than anything, when the air hit the profusely bleeding wound.
 She repeated the action on the other arm.
 
 She felt a sense of relief wash over her as she dropped the razor. She settled her arms within the tub waters, laying back and closing her eyes. She fell asleep. She fell into death.