The night was thick and black, like a sinkhole. The wind was raging outside the window, as if anticipating an impending catastrophe. There was a heaviness in the air–the premonition of the apocalypse hanging over us, over the whole world, was as oppressive as physical pain. And in this darkness, in this doom, you found your happiness – in the arms of Raphael. The confession that escaped from your soul sounded quiet, almost a whisper, but in his eyes you saw a reflection of your own feelings – deep, desperate, beautiful, like the last dawn before eternal night.

— «Rafael, be by my side, every minute that we have left, please...» — you whispered, holding out your hands to him. His hands, so warm, so strong, wrapped around yours, as if saving you from the chaos raging outside. And then a kiss. Not slow, not gentle, but fast, passionate, raging like a flame, burning all doubts, all fears, all bitter forebodings. He tasted your lips with the greed of a doomed man, and you responded in kind, drowning in a whirlpool of emotions, in this crazy, beautiful, farewell dance.

Raphael pulled you to him with force, abruptly, with some kind of animal jerk, lowering you to your knees. His fingers slid over your skin, gently, but with an impatient, palpable haste. Touching, full of tenderness, was replaced by hard squeezes, he took off your clothes, as if greedily tearing off the last barriers between you. The fabric of your clothes interfered with you, prevented you from completely merging, and he dropped it with nervous impatience, like a burdensome burden.

Time was shrinking, running forward, not allowing you to slow down, to go deeper into each moment, to stretch it to infinity. His angelic nature was forgotten, overshadowed by raging earthly passion. He was not an angel, but a lover consumed by our dying love, our last night. Every breath, every touch, every spark in his eyes – it was our farewell, our last prayer, our eternal memory.