My chest feels tight. Like I can barely breathe. I feel – heartache.

I did not love Wesley. He most certainly did not love me. But still I feel this grief.

As he lay dying in my arms, I felt the pain. I had to give him the lie he needed.

I took on Fred's form. I said to him words I believe she might have said. I wept for him as I believe she might have wept.

Not all of those tears were a lie.