Last goodbye. A flash fiction story.

She traced her fingers down his cheek, along his jaw line, over his neck and rested her hand on his heart. She concentrated with everything that she was until she could feel its slow and steady beat pounding faintly against her palm. A small smile formed on her lips.
His eyelids fluttered as he dreamt and she wondered if he dreamt of her? She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. There was no other place in the whole world she’d rather be. Beside him was where she belonged, he was home.

He shuffled a little and mumbled her name. If her heart could still beat it would be racing in response. She wished that he knew she was beside him, that she could comfort him. She longed to feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his flesh, the softness of his lips. If only she could be entangled in his arms once more. But time was up, over for them, taken prematurely. Weren’t they supposed to live till they were wrinkled and grey and then die together in their sleep? That was the plan, his promise.

She felt herself being pulled, lifted, her anchor becoming loose. She struggled and cried and tried to hold on, but he was slipping through her fingers. She was given three minutes, it wasn’t enough. Her spirit drifted off the bed and out the window, a torturous howl escaping her lips as she was taken from her love for the second time.

By R.L.Sharpe.


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