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“He shakes the body beside him. When I do not answer, he weeps again.”
“When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.”
“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.”
“I think: This is what I will miss. I think: I will kill myself rather than miss it. I think: How long do we have?”
“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?”
“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth. As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand.”
“We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.”
“Dear gods, I think, let him not hate me.”
