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I wish i could have stayed in this place  forever. The smell of the crisp cool air in the morning, the delicate blanket of dew on the grass. The swaying trees, the warm crackling fire. The feeling of laying in the grass while gazing up at the infinite sky peppered with stars. But most importantly, knowing my wife is experiencing this world with me. She means everything to me, at this point, there wouldn't be any purpose to my life if she weren't here by my side. We often traveled together around the country side to harvest the most beautiful flowers. I watched her gather them in her woven basket with such care. Her dress flowed so beautifully in the breeze, as if the fine silk was one with the wind. The soft shape shifting clouds rolled along the horizon like waves crashing on the warm sandy shore. She held her basket upon her delicate forearm dusted with freckles. I was so infatuated with her, I could watch her for years on end. On our way back, we would occasionally meet with a local farmer and collect fresh milk and eggs. Life was peaceful, I wanted to stay caught in this endless loop of sweet honey. But, of course, among the honey bees dwells a wasp. My wife fell terribly ill. Day by day, her body weakened greatly, therefore she remained in bed under a white goose feather duvet. My sorrow grew as her skin began matching the bedding. It felt as if a vine was squeezing my heart, it's thorns closing in on the sensitive flesh. Our small wooden cottage fell more and more silent as my cries got louder. My love was loosing her glow, her radiance had faded. And one gloomy night, the heavens above had welcomed a new angel. I cried by her side for days. Her body was beginning to wisp away through the stain glass window. I finally left her side and ate alone for the first time. The clatter of my half empty dishes echoed through the cottage. It was so painfully silent, I could almost hear my tears drip onto the kitchen table. My head in my hands, I decided to immortalize her by burying her under a sapling. The dry dirt accumulated on the rusty shovel as i dug deeper into the ground. I lay her down gently with a couple crysanthemum flowers between her fingers. After wishing her luck in the afterlife, and shed the last tears my frail body could produce, I covered her face with soil. I planted a tree of her favourite fruit, the nectarine. I waited patiently for it to grow big enough so i could hang a rope and join my wonderful wife once more.

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