He wasn't paying close enough attention when she told him it was over. She had cheated death so often, he thought she was immortal. He couldn't catch her when she fell to the floor. There was no saving possible.
Now, he is lost, but he does not know it. Maybe he never will. It exists outside of him, something vibrating so deeply that I can feel it in my depths. His fear of being alone chases him. He fights it off, but it leaches on to me. So much aching, it throbs. Shrill and persistent. He begs. His lips search for hers. Every day. But she is gone. She cannot hear him. Cannot feel him. Only I can. But I am not his beloved. He drugs himself to sleep. He has no wish to dream. He hums during the day to drown the silence. He remembers too much. It echoes. The moments of awakening. The smile before going silent.
He rids himself of reminders. Puts the television volume too high. Thinks he ,too, will cheat death if he just ignores it all. The black button has been discarded. Officially out of mourning. Without a purpose. What now in the merry month of May?
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