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Stroking her hair in the stillness, a smile crosses your lips with pain, love and regret in one breath. Her chest rises and falls, a sign of life still within, although her face is deathly pale.
You watched, in tears yourself, as she wept over your lifeless body in the morgue. Now it’s your turn to be with her; she needs you.
Her breathing now is shallow and ragged; she opens those beautiful grey-green eyes halfway, eyelids fluttering, and looks up sleepily.
“I’m here, Laura,” you whisper, squeezing her hand with the faint pressure of a ghost. “I’m here.”