• She was beautiful. More than that, she was compassionate, careful, and simply, absolutely, amazingly, irresistible. How could I not love her, no matter how irrational that emotion of love was. When I loved her, I no longer felt the pain. Never before had I met someone like her, in all my twenty-two miserable years I spent on the earth. From the moment I saw her, she was what held me to that spinning celestial rock, no longer was it gravity pulling me down but a single white thread connecting me to the most wonderful object of my fascination. And she wondered why even after she snipped my last thread of life--which was her gift--I refused to move on to the glorious "other side" that she would often describe to me, longing obvious in her sweet soprano tone.
    "Wesley James Scott," she would say, her voice music in my ears, "how long are you going to follow me around? Move on, it's what everyone else does."
    My reply was always the same.
    "Never my angel, I'll never leave your side." Then I would intertwine our fingers and bring the back of her hand to my lips.
    She would shake her head and smile besides herself, knowing it would hurt her too much to break our bond of affection though she had all the power in the world to do so. All during our short conversation we would be walking, making our way to our next destination. Our traveling was never done, which would be expected.
    Death never sleeps.♥