She was dead. He couldn't save her. After only one day, one day in this barren existence that was apparently life, he had found redemption in the form of this slip of a girl. The girl with the endless chatter, who he had thought knew nothing. She knew everything. She knew him and she still "quite liked" him. He is not deserving of such beauty, of such angelic truth. And the world knew this and took her from him. Why again? Why this time when it was real and true? The caring was already present. Love was just round the twist. Why again? Why always again?
The peace she brought him was previously unimaginable. And yet, it happened. He was given this gift, this miracle, this girl, for just a day. It is up to him now, to live the life that was taken from her too soon. His may be worth next to nothing, but hers was beyond price. He cannot repay her any less. She saved him. She saw enough good in him to care. His life cannot be so empty then, and now it cannot be empty again, because it is for her that he lives. It is up to him now.
