Once upon a time, you met a girl, a very beautiful girl. She had fair skin and gorgeous ginger hair; she was the love of your life—active, emotional, and free. The glint in her eyes that you loved so much one day was taken from her. She had a terminal illness; her organs were failing, and you could do nothing about it. How unfair! How could she come into your life, give you purpose, and then leave? Doctors tried everything they could to help, but nothing was working. They gave her two months at best to live. You would visit every day; some days she seemed to be doing better, while others she couldn’t even get out of bed. With the little time she had, the both of you would draw together, paint, make little crafts, and eat a bunch—or as much as she could. The time you spent together meant a lot to her, but she knew her end was coming. At the end of her life, you couldn’t cry, though; your heart ached, agony filling your being. Life seemed meaningless, but as fate had it, on that very day, you met a boy your age. He sat on the hospital roof, tears in his eyes, with a picture of a very beautiful woman and flowers. Your eyes met, as if the both of you felt each other's grief. You sat next to him and smiled softly. He stared at you for a moment, a smile forced upon his quivering lips, tears threatening to fall. The two of you stared at each other, the pain from your hearts lifting ever so slightly as you found peace within each other's pain. Maybe this was your new beginning.