"Good-bye, Galahad," said Charlene, loudly enough for only him to hear. She looked into his eyes sadly, regretfully, with unspoken apology.
"Good-bye, my love," he responded simply, tenderly, returning her gaze with one full of his own regret and sadness.
They raised their hands but did not touch each other. A brief flash of light, and she was gone, forever.
Jenkins lowered his hands to his sides and turned away from the mirror to face the others. Eve was trying to comfort a distraught Flynn. Cassandra was sniffling, close to breaking down completely, and both Ezekiel and Jacob, fighting back their own tears, moved to console her. Oblivious to everything now except their own grief, no one took notice of the Caretaker as he silently strode past them and out of the room, his face a mask of impassive stoicism.
He walked through the corridors of the Library purposefully, forcing his dazed mind to remain blank. His left cheek burned where she had kissed him.
He entered his rooms and slowly closed the door behind him. After quietly locking it he removed the stole from around his neck and draped it carefully over the bed. He removed his suit coat and his tie and neatly hung them both in the closet.
He unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt as he moved to the armchair and sat down heavily. He was motionless for several minutes as the reality of what just happened fully sank into him.
Only then did he permit himself to reach a hand up to his burning cheek. Only then did he allow himself to feel the awful, crushing pain in his chest, the suffocating knot in his throat. Only then did he allow the tears to well and fall his from his eyes.
Only then did he allow himself to bury his face in hands and sob uncontrollably for his lost love.
