He knocks.
The sound is something new.
There is a weakness in it that wasn’t there before.
His tone has changed somewhat.
He’s gone.

She expected it.
They say nothing lasts forever.
The strong man she once knew was taken by the lost soul.
This kind of loss always cuts deep.
It is expected.

Death is unfair like that.
Leaving nothing untouched, undisturbed.
It sweeps through like a tornado, destroying all walls.
Walls of love, of kindness, of bold strength.
Not fair to us, the rest.

The rest must clean.
Must console and rearrange.
If, that is, a mangled heart can even be arranged.
The effort is there from us.
But they are gone.


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