The world stood still in the hot, stuffy little room. There were no defined edges to anything, only fuzzy, indistinct lines. The only thing that was clear as crystal was Gilbert's face, and the life slowly fading from his deep blue eyes. Those same eyes that had teased her, winked at her, adored her, implored her… the life was sinking into the dark abyss of his pupils, and Anne was helpless to stop it. Then, it was all gone, leaving nothing but empty blue eyes, glassy as marbles. The silence was deafening. Anne felt it pressing in on her, and she felt the urge to scream, to run from the room, to shake the life back into those cold, dark eyes. But she couldn't move, not an inch. She was adhered to her place, wherever it may have been. She could not tell if she were sitting or standing, as she had long ago lost all feeling in her limbs. Perhaps it had simply been drowned out by the excess of feeling in her heart as it throbbed in pain. She wanted nothing more than to rip it out of her chest, to lie down next to Gilbert and let the life drain from her eyes as well. But no matter how she wanted to, she could not move. The deafening silence was finally broken by the sound of the doctor's voice, as he pulled out a gold pocket watch and glanced at it somberly. "3:49," he murmured, as he scratched a note down in his book. Then he moved to shut the dead man's eyes, and Anne Shirley knew that that was the last time she would ever know the gaze of Gilbert Blythe.