She looked at his apathy but she refused to see. He'll change, she told herself, he'll feel once more. But as she reiterated the impossible, he began to wither away. Away from all that is humane, away from all that is. Hold on, she cried, hold on once more. He continued to wither away.

Perhaps a God will intervene and kiss his head once more. Perhaps the winds will blow too hard and cast black waters ashore.

She hoped against profusion, against sentimental profanity. She prayed he would persist although she knew it couldnt be. He asked her if she knew who he was, if she knew who he tried to be. She told him she could never guess, that truths were always "maybe."

And as she said those mortal words, he disintegrated once more. His flesh from his muscle, his blood from his vessel and his heart divorced his soul.

She looked at the detritus of a man she knew, a man who was no more. A man who breathed but did not live, an indominable force but a mere shadow. A gust of sea-water without its chill, a human being without a will. She searched for herself in his soft echo and found only a mumble or two. She gathered her strength and walked away-the rest of the world would do.