The kitchen floor was cold beneath his face. There was a burning pain in his chest. "Annie," he whispered. Or at least he tried to. Only an unrecognizable gurgle came out. So this is it, he thought. This is what dying feels like. He saw Zarya in his mind then, turning to smile at him, her red hair blowing in the wind. Annie again, in the red dress she wore in Cuba as they danced the night away. My two bright stars, he thought. I have been lucky, so lucky. Then thoughts dissolved and there was only love. With a sigh, Simon finally let go.