"𝐈'𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝...𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲..."

「⊹˙◌˚∘˙*」

1975

Roger couldn't believe all that. The many times that the woman he loved so much apologized for things so, so simple...that's why.

There she was, sleeping, but she wouldn't wake up anymore. It was the first time in many years that she had rested in peace. The eyes closed, the long lashes caressing the pale and cold cheeks. Her lips, now purple, closed, something she didn't do when she slept and was still breathing. She would fall asleep with her mouth open and sometimes let the saliva that accumulated on her cheek drip out. The chest did not rise or fall. The heart stopped.

How come he didn't notice that the woman in his life was so overwhelmed? That she felt so overwhelmed that she hung like a hanger in her wardrobe.

Oh, and the mark around her neck...the same neck he would pinch with his teeth to get a good laugh out of her.

.

The ceremony had ended a long time ago, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet.

And there he was in that room, playing with the curls of the woman who now rested in the casket. He didn't want to close that coffin, he didn't want to see his girl being buried with worms.

Their friends, right there, at the door. The concerned and friendly looks.