Fiorella was numb at first, in shock, sick at the heart, but now she's angry. She's angry at the weapon makers for overproduction. She's angry at the NRA for its power grab. She's angry at legislators who have been paid off. She's angry at broadcasters who feed their audiences with conspiracy theories. She's angry at TV shows and movies that glamorize combat. And she's angry at herself that she can't somehow stop the madness.
Why do people kill each other? Why are they even mean to each other? Why do they make up stories about each other? Can't we all live in harmony and mind our own business? Can't we all help each other, value each other, enjoy each other?
Fiorella's goal for her earthly existance is to make the world a better place. That's why she writes novels about women who overcome extreme difficulties. That's why she expresses herself about the state of the nation on Facebook. That's why she tries to be a good friend and the best mother in the world. That's why she smiles all the time. Sure, she doesn't always have something to smile about, but there's always tomorrow.
But for the people who were killed in Las Vegas, there is no tomorrow. Fiorella is angry.
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