So, do you remember that girl? The one who doesn't die in the end?

She was hurting.

Not so strongly as to project it to the world, but enough that her heart ached with each tender beat. With each slight pulse of the fragile membrane inside of her, she felt the beating of his heart, so far away and yet so near that she could feel the heat of his body, lying somewhere out there in his bed not too far from his, longing for the touch of her skin.

She lulled him to sleep, she knew. And the thoughts of him kept her awake. She could not stop the tingle that ran up her body, to the most intimate places, when he touched her hair, or breathed on her skin, or spoke her name, or simply existed.

It was a touch that she felt so seldomly, although it happened so often. Not enough. She longed for nothing more that to be continually in his arms, at a distance that she could watch him sleep and count his eyelashes all at the same time. Last time she'd only gotten to eighty three before she drifted into her ever restless sleep.

But the warmth of his body was there.

And so she slept on.

ramey.