Pensiveness

"Is it happening already?" she said, with her wrinkled face giving away a purely innocent look of puzzlement. Puzzlement topped with fear, and mingled with a pinch of helplessness. She looked at her sweetheart, lying on the hospital bed, too weak to turn his debilitated body around so as to face her. Bed sores spread all over his elbows and knees. He was weak. Far too weak and sick. His clothes were bedraggled and his silvery hair uncombed. He wept.

I looked at her, that pensiveness of hers overwhelmed me. It got me to see the life they've led through her eyes. Trials at cooking, days of passion, sun rays touching down at late afternoon, at the terrace where they sat down, drinking tea and a blue day when his mum passed away, he sat by her side, weeping. She said she'll always be there for him. That she did.

Now his days are coming to an end, and she refuses to see it.