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Those seconds, half seconds, that the line of our gaze connected, were the only moment in my day that I felt anything at all.
He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight. I found myself wishing he would wake so that I might watch the life return.
There was a vividness to him, even at rest, that made death and spirits seem foolish.
“Do not let what you gained this day be so easily lost.”
“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?”
His voice was remote, almost careless. “You would not be displeased, I think. With how you look now.” My face grew warm, again. But we spoke no more of it.
