I Will Wait
In between the dying breaths he was so desperately trying to latch on to, Manolo tried to store up as much air as he could to keep himself alive; he was now eighty-three years old, and would soon be meeting his parents and La Muerte again.
Maria tried everything to extend his life, but it wasn't any good. Maria wanted her beloved to rest, but he always wanted to go outside, and enjoy the sun or moonlight.
"What're you thinking about?" She asked one evening when she saw him reclining in his favorite seat on the porch.
"They miss me."
"What?"
"My family. They know it's coming soon."
"Manolo-please."
"It's okay, Maria."
She didn't want to hear about anymore of his death! Why did he have be eighty-three and not forty-five at least?
"Quit arguing with him and cherish these moments; he doesn't have long."
Fighting her tears and sniffles, Maria had him scoot over a little, so they'd be sharing the seat.
It became less and less of a light thing to perform. Manolo put one arm around her, and allowed the other to rest on his stomach
"Manolo?"
"Hmm?"
"If you're not too tired, will you sing?"
"Of course."
"I will wait, yes I will wait..."
The old matador's voice drifted into becoming weak-sounding, and he was too tired to finish. So, he decided to use three more words, instead.
"I will wait..."
Manolo's pulled vocal cords quickly silenced, and the last thing Maria heard, was a quiet exhale, and then her sweetheart's head dropped against hers.
Maria knew he was gone. It didn't even take five minutes when she closed her eyes, and allowed her head to droop, too.
"I will wait..."