With my thumb, I stroke his limp hand holding mine. Beeps repeat at regular intervals, notifying me of his heartbeat. My hand breaks loose from his, only to move to his slowly graying bronze hair. I run my fingers through his silky hair, just as he has done to me so many times through my sickness.
I picture a smile tugging at his lips, causing a short grin on my own.
Taking a deep breath, I move my hand across his brow to its destination over his eyes. With a tiny gasp, I steal his vision.
Memories, thoughts, and knowledge violently flood through me, taking up every inch of empty space in my body from my toes to the top of my head. The cold worry from before is washed away with these new, warm feelings of bliss.
I search through his feelings of love and see a familiar face. Mine. But there is something off about it. Instead of the bland face I have memorized in the mirror, I see myself through his eyes. I am something more to him. And with this insight comes an abrupt memory. The potent force of it surges into me and flushes out anything that remained.