“I'm sorry, my love,” he whispered. He wanted to tell her he would take an eternity of her scorn over another moment without her, but his words found no voice.
“Daddy, Mummy's making her angry face.” The young voice warned, flooding his slowing heart with warmth. Despite feeling so weak he managed to curl the corners of his lips into a smile, closing his eyes as he listened to the sweet serenade of a voice never quite forgotten.
“Mummy's only pretending to be mad, she knows I've no say in this. It's my time or else you wouldn't be before me now.”
“i***t,” his wife scolded, her tone soft. In the space of that single word she had moved to stand beside him. Her hand, while possessing no form, rested upon his face, sending a tingle of energy through him as she crouched down to look upon him
