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I wanted her to know that I’d be back, that I’d do anything for her and change what was about to come. How could I explain it all. How could I go into detail about how it made me ache in every part of my dying body. That I would trade everything to give her a better life. You feel all this in an instant; it’s true, they say it and you see it in movies and think it’s shit, but it’s true and it’s terrible. The impotency of the tongue to translate the heart’s desire. All I could give her was what lay in my eyes, which I hoped accurately reflected my will. She struggled for a moment, knitting her brow, searching, and finally recognition shone on her pale face. Light in eyes that had been dark for so long. Relief, for a moment, was ours, and it was okay because even if it were only for a matter of minutes, it was an eternity as it happened, for we were fooled into believing the “we” and the “us” ā€” the this ā€” is all there ever was or would be.

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