Her husband blindly stroked her cheek as she slept, wondering how he married such a beautiful woman.
"My bijou," he whispered, and when he opened his eyes, hers were still closed but he could tell she was aware. He noticed how her skin displayed every year they'd been together, the creases in her face now looking relaxed. The white sheets made the white streaks in her hair stand out even more; his arthritic hands reached out to run through her hair, and she adjusted her neck to fit her head in his hand.
"You are my bijou," he repeated, clearing his throat quietly. "You are my shining light. You are my--"
"Shhh ... " she whispered, snuggling even more into his arms. She slowly inhaled, and smiled her old smile that she wore on their first date, on their wedding day, after their sons were born, cheering on the sidelines of the little league games, at their sons' graduations and weddings. He couldn't help but smile as he realized her smile lines were the deepest of her wrinkles.
Her exhale was cold.
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your daily dose of microfiction
Short StoryA microfiction is an extremely short story that often has a twist despite being only a few sentences long. This will be updated every day.
