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Momento Mori

By @Snake-of-Eden


I sit bathing in the horrifying truth of my diagnosis, letting the oppressive reality wash over me like a wave. I’m noticing how the doctor and the love of my life talk earnestly, fervently. Their voices grow dim and distant as the news swells in my heart and swallows my sole.

She’s already discussing plans B, C and D, right the way through to Z and even then she’s probably coming up with additional contingencies. I don’t have it in me to think. As I bask in the gloom, a soft glow radiates from her and envelopes me. My eyes are drawn to her face like a moth to a flame. She’s talking animatedly, brows knitted together with worry. Her hands making gestures as she talks the doctor through each soloution she’s just come up with. He sits, hands pressed together as though in prayer, gazing at her over his spectacles and throwing the occasional sideways glance at me. My eyes rove over her face, taking in each individual detail and carefully packing it away in the iron filings of my memory, safe and forever perfect.

I see the way he mouth forms and annunciates each syllable as she speaks. I carefully observe the way her body straighteners and leans forward, the way her eyes behind wide frames plead with the stony faced white coated man sitting before her, shiny and watery. The way I can just see her heart rate beneath the silky skinned her neck bounce rapidly. I move my eyes deliberately over her face now, noticing every hair, every blemish, every spot, every exquisites feature and each line, a story to tell all by its self. A story of a laugh, a cry, a shouting match. Each line makes her whole being shine. I notice the way her golden hair falls in coiling dresses around her head. the side closest to where I sit draped around her pierced ear, the other falling to frame her furiously talking head the movements of which cause it to quiver like golden flames. The way her eyebrows perfectly untouched curve themselves upward in concern and her eyes darting all over the office and back and forth from mine. I fail to notice when she finally stops talking.

She terns her head to face me and Im looking into those bright vivid green irises flecked with golden specs, framed in wide dark flames and the whole lovely picture framed in gold. She’s trying to gain my attention, she leans foward and places both of her manicured hands over my tightly coiled ones. 

I realise that there isn’t enough time to take in every detail and to give each the care and attention they deserve. I return her gaze and I see tears grace the sides of those eyes. I hug her, burring my face in her hair.

At the very least, I won’t have to live without her.

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