As I watch you close your eyes, so tired and defeated, you open your mouth, whispering something that would haunt me forever, one raspy sorrow filled word;
"Goodbye."
You would probably expected everything to slow down as you hear that long, high pitched, wretched sound of the flat-line, right? I sure did. But It didn't. There were no slow-motion, movie-like doctors rushing in, no frantic yells or tries to revive them, just the solemn face of a doctor, telling you what you already knew.
"They're gone. Im sorry"
'Im sorry.' It sounds so well practiced, so over used. But no less sincere.
"I-I understand. Thank you."
I feel so numb, as I wear my mask to hide my emotions, but it's not the first time, and its definitely not the last either. And that's the end of it. I move on; I always do. No matter how many times it happens, I move on.
