His last breath

It’s been seven days since he fell on the floor, lifeless. He haunted every minute of my day, every dream of my night. It’s not easy to let go when you’ve been with him for 12 long years. I still remember the first day I saw him; when he walked towards me in measured, uncertain steps. I had watched him with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. It hadn’t taken us a long to strike a bond. I had walked with him from that day on. I walked around the garden, trying hard to distract my heart from the painful memories. I tried to see around me, absorb the white freshness of the hibiscus blossoms, only to remember the way he used to touch those flowers with love. I walked on the well-worn pebble path, only to remember him chasing me around in those wonderful days of the past. I finished my walk and reached the wooden swing in my portico. Sitting there I let the breeze gently ruffle my clothes, imagining the way he ruffled it when we played. I stared at the pillar where he used to wait for me when I came back home from work. I could still see him standing there, with the expression of longing and love. Hot tears glided down my cheeks. I let it flow, knowing I could not stop it...

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