
"you can’t leave me, my love…” and his fingers wrapped tightly her frail and petite form on the bed, bringing her closer to him, “you can’t.”
the words were whispered, a mere breath in her ear, fearful of what they might mean. the embrace around her body got stronger, but it was reassuring. comforting. to feel something.
her hand slid on his chest and rested just above his beating heart,
“i am there,” she said, “i will never leave you…”
смотря на историю Марты и Томаса я поняла одну маленькую истину, которую хотела бы вложить в своих героев.
им рано или поздно придется умереть.