She grips his hand as he withers away. The liquid that flows in the transparent tube stuck in his vein stops. His face tilts to her way and she sees his lips twitch. But he does not squeeze her hand the way she does.
The nurses flock in a hurry, checking his vital signs in the monitor, stating numbers, or writing in a clipboard. A pair of hands detaches her from the patient. She does not flail any longer, but she wails loud. The nurse escorts her outside and asks her to wait there. But she collapses on the floor. She knows he will not survive this time. He said so himself.
She holds the ceramic jar between her pale hands. The hills are greener in this season. The air is humid and it breezes through her hair. She looks down to the jar and turns the lid. The sunset dawns over his ashes and before she can scoop a handful, the winds already take out some.
Her cheeks are dry, but her eyes are moist. She sifts him through the gaps of her fingers, watching the ashes glide in the air. Tomorrow she will burn his belongings, just like his wish. Until all his traces are gone.
“Burn it all or bury it down,” he said in his weak voice. “Until you forget the world between us.”
And so, she will.
WORD COUNT: 232
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