“Do you know something?” he asked drowsily. “I’ve always thought my parents’ death was like something from a ballad. They loved each other so very much. Even as a boy, I could see it. It seems almost fitting that they met such a poetic end. Always together, united even in death. As tragedies go, you must admit—it’s a rather romantic one.” She was quiet for a long time, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. Her fingers teased through his hair. He’d almost drifted off when he heard her reply. “If you write the verse, I’ll sing it.”
