It seemed so perfect, really, and that should have been enough to clue you in to its impending disaster. For years, he catered to your every need, be it at work or in bed, your own personal concubine. The midnight hour you awoke to find him dead in your arms, the whole dynamic changed. Suddenly with his cold clay body lax in your embrace, he was no longer a play thing; he was a person, and a person you cared about at that. Gathering him up, still wrapped in your bed sheets, you rushed to Princeton-Plainsboro in the middle of the night, clinging to the tiniest shred of hope. That hope was dashed when they pronounced him DOA. Those three little letters that you heard uttered daily shattered your heart into a million pieces, rendering you unable to support even your own body weight. Collapsing to the floor, you began to sob, your pitiful wailing chilling every person in the room to their core. A pair of hands grasped your shoulders, pulling your body into their bearer. Resting your head against a womanly swell, the tears ran in tracks down your face as your chest heaved with cries. For how long you were there, you weren't completely certain, but at some point you were walked back upstairs and into your friends office, your hand never leaving hers. When the sun pierced your eyelids hours later, you were given your first conception of time. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and looked around. Taking a deep breath, the sting of the stale hospital air rich in your lungs, you remembered why you were asleep in Cuddy's office in the first place and felt your heart break once again.
Even though the sun was shining, you would never feel its warmth again.
