Goodbye

His gnarled and calloused hand moves towards the soft, but deformed, fingers and gently squeezes, without pressure, but in a way that she knows it is him and that he is there, as he has been for fifty years; to care, to love, and just to be with her.
She feels him raise her hand to his dry lips – as she feels the tear that falls from his rheumy eye on to the parchment skin of her hand.
She sighs a last, long sigh.
He whispers, “See you soon.”

© Avril King