I know these moments, plentiful and waiting. I adorn my soul with these feelings I’ve snatched, all of them born of anticipation.

But this… this is different…

This fear is something I wasn’t meant to take.

The moment before death… before the heart stops, before the eyes glaze over, before it all ends.

I never imagined her eyes would just dim like that; I thought it was all make-believe, unscientific, found in movies.

I feel like I stole something no one can replace; I feel like I’m the one who stole her very last breath. Can I give it back? Can I just pay a return fee like you would to the library? I’ll give her mine so long as she gets back hers.