To Adjust or not to Adjust

His hands icy, his mind, cold. He sat there staring at his reflection, mirroring recent events. He was glad it ended this way. It could have gone on as it was, but then it would eventually have no meaning anymore. So he took measures into his own hands and made that change; a difference. So as not to be that boring individual who always talks about it but never acts, but actually does it. So as I said he's staring at his reflection. In the gleam of a machete smeared with the blood of someone he thought he loved. It was his conscious decision to act as he saw fit. Her bloodied corpse laying there, careless, unregretful, mourning yet free,  it's now 03:00 AM.