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By Freddie-4884


I walk into the room and there she is, standing at the window looking out across the city as it's bathed in the morning sun. I stopped just inside the doorway and watched her. I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my whole life. She stands there holding a cup of coffee looking like an angelic statue. Only the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest show that she is alive.

I decide to take my time to enjoy this rare chance to observe her unguarded. I start at her bare feet and move up her legs. I smile slightly when I see that she is wearing her 'comfy' shorts. She always wears a pair of my baggy bed shorts when she just want to kick back and relax. She says that they remind her of our first kiss. The day that she dragged me out of my bed. She nearly broke my door down that day. When I threw open the door to yell at the idiot trying to punch a whole in my door, she was standing there. I didn't even get a chance to say hello or ask what the hell she was doing here. She just stepped up to me, put her hands on my hips and kissed me. It was the most sensual, erotic kiss I had ever had. It didn't last too long, a few seconds, then she turned and walked away.

I can feel my grin growing larger as I re-live the memory. I have to fight the urge to go over to her and take her in my arms. Instead my gaze slowly moves over the swell of her hip and rests on her stomach. I think of all the times that I've rested my head there, while we both catch our breathe after making love. The times that I have spent with my head nestled beneath her breasts stroking her firm stomach watching the muscles twitching, it plays like a film behind my eyes.

I move my eyes up to her breasts and remember the first time I saw and touched the two firm globes. It was the first time we had made love. I was so nervous that she would find me lacking or she would be repulsed by my scars. I think she must have known, cos she sat me on the bed and started to undress, slowly. Taking her time to remove her t-shirt and jeans then her bra and panties. I thought I was going to die there and then. When I looked in her eyes I saw the nervousness that I was feeling. I could only whisper one word that night as I kissed and caressed her body, 'beautiful.'

I move my gaze from her breasts to her hair. In a fit of spontaneity she cut her hair a few months ago but now it's back to its usual length at her shoulders. I love to run my fingers through it when we're sitting watching a movie or just chilling listening to some music and reading a book. My favourite time to run my fingers through her hair is when we're laying in bed after making love. The quiet time, when the buzz is still flowing through our veins.

Unfortunately at the angle that I am standing, I can't see the part of her that I love the most. The part of her I noticed first the instant we met. Her eyes. People say that the eyes are the windows to our soul. With her it's definitely true. No matter how hard she tries to hide how she truly feels, one look into her eyes and you know exactly how she feels. I love it when she looks at me, I know what it means to be loved.

I end my observation and walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. I kiss her shoulder then rest my chin on it and look out at the city view. While I'm holding her the only thoughts that run through my mind are how much I am in love with this woman in my arms, and how lost I would be without her.

I suggest that we just spend a day chilling out. Doing nothing, maybe watch some movie, just spend the day together. So we settle on the couch after a quiet breakfast. We browse through the Sunday papers and watch a bit of TV. By the time night comes we've moved to our bedroom and settled for the night. As I fall asleep with her in my arms I realise how lucky I am. I tell her so and how much I love her and how beautiful she is.

When I wake up the next day, she's not in bed with me. I get out of bed to go and look for her. That's when I see my suit hanging on the back of my door. It all comes back to me with crashing clarity. Yesterday was a dream. Yesterday was how we spent our last day without hospitals and machines around us. Today I have to stand and listen to people say how much they loved her and how much they'll miss her. Where were they when she was screaming in agony? Where were they when she needed someone to hold her hand and wipe her forehead. Sure they loved her and sure they'll miss her. None as much as me!

Today I bury my angel!

The End

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