It's eleven-fifty, ten minutes until midnight.

I'm sitting beside your hospital bed, holding your hand. You're barely awake, but you're still able to make eye contact with me. It's obvious that you're too weak to grip my hand back, so I hold yours that much tighter.

You're in pain, Yuuji.

You have cancer.

And all I'm doing is holding your hand. That's probably not too comforting, is it? Or maybe it is. How would I know? I'm not you. I'm not the one dying.

Oh, God…dying. It still hasn't quite settled in yet. How is anybody supposed to accept the fact that their husband is dying? I want to cry, I really do.

But I can't, because, in my head, there's nothing to be upset about. Very soon, you'll get better, and then Dad will get the car and we'll all drive home together, or something along those lines.

You can't die, because you're supposed to always be around. You're invincible. You know, when I was younger, I really used to believe your were invincible…did I ever tell you that?

Shit. Eleven fifty-one.

Another minute has gone by. Why do I feel like there are only a few minutes left?

Well, I know why I feel like that…it's because maybe, just maybe, there are only a few minutes left.

You smile at me, gently rubbing your thumb over my hand, trying to comfort me. Funny how you're the one with cancer, and you're comforting me. I've got a whole life ahead of me.

Did you feel that way thirty years ago? Twenty years ago?

Eleven fifty-three.

I'm glad it's not light outside. It's dark, and foggy, which seems appropriate. I don't think I'd be able to deal with it being bright outside. The light would mock the situation, and rub it in the faces of the sick and the dying that life is going on whether or not they get better.

Life goes on whether or not Yuuji's alive.

Just like time goes on, I suppose, and the Earth still rotates, and the sun still shines, and there's still laughter, and smiles, and friendship, and love, and everything that's good in the world.

Sometimes I hate time. It moves so quickly, that there's no chance to stop and smell the flowers, you know?

I used to love to pick small bouquets of flowers from our garden. That seems almost like a lifetime ago, now. I don't think I've done that in years. I guess time just didn't allow it.

Another minute passes, and it's eleven fifty-four.

I wish that everybody could be here right now, but Daddy's on his way here with the kids, and our friends are flying in as quickly as they can from different parts of the world.

So I guess it's just the two of us.

Eleven fifty-five.

Is it just me, or are the minutes moving faster and faster each time I check the clock?

It occurs to me now that I should say something. That I should tell you things, anything I meant to tell you, but never did, not because I didn't want to, but because it just didn't seem important at the time.

Now it seems important.

"...Yuuji, can I tell you something?" I ask, quietly. You just smile at me, because you don't have nearly enough strength to nod, though you try to.

"I lent your biker coat, the one with the Dragon embroidery, to Akihisa without asking you, he got it dirty when he returned it to me, so I tried to wash it but ended up spoiling the washing machine..." I wait for him to remember, and then, "But I sent the coat to the dry cleaners then I called Dad to repair the washing machine before you found out, so you never knew about it,"

You start laughing, although I'm sure that it hurts you to do so. How did this happen? How did this happen to you?

"When I'm gone," you stop, to catch your breath. "When I'm gone…you can have…that coat, sweetheart,"

It only takes a moment for everything to sink in.

"When I'm gone,"

Eleven fifty-six.

In a flash, I'm blurting out one random thing after another. I try to make it all make sense, but I'm just trying to get everything out in time. Before-

Before it's too late.

Eleven-fifty seven.

You smile as I babble, and then I finally stop, when I realize that none of it really matters. Maybe I thought it mattered, at some point, but it doesn't, now. All that matters is that, very soon, you'll be gone, and I'll be left all alone.

I've never been all alone before.

Now it's eleven fifty-eight

Why won't this fucking clock slow down?

I hate this…I hate this so much.

A droplet of water falls onto your blanket. Apparently I've been crying.

I can't believe this. You can't do this, because who's going to be there to tell me which way to turn, or what decision to make, or how to live my life so that it makes a difference, and makes a difference to somebody.

I can't think of one person who's made more of a difference in my life than you. You made me the person that I am, and you gave me everything I ever wanted and I never said thank you for any of that, not once, because I was spoiled, and selfish, but you kept giving, and I kept taking, and now I won't be able to make up for any of it, and-

"Shouko..."

You whisper my name, and I stopped thinking.

"I love you," you choke out, and then your eyes stop moving. Bright eyes that danced through my entire life suddenly stop dancing to a silent song. Every song ends sometime.

Eleven fifty-nine.

I squeeze your hand so tightly that I'm afraid I might just break something. I feel for a pulse on your wrist, and it's weak.

Your hand is still putting the slightest bit of pressure on mine.

"...Yuuji?" I stare at your face. "...Yuuji?"

You don't respond. A part of me hoped you would pull through this. That part of me has disappeared completely, now, and is just replaced with numbness.

I bury my face in both of your hands, and cry. After a few moments, I'm sobbing. Wracking, loud sobs that I can't manage to stop letting out.

A nurse walks into the room, with a doctor.

The doctor calls the time of death.

"Midnight, 0001 hours" he says.

I look at the clock, and then I stand up, and look down the hall of the hospital. Then I go back to looking at the clock. I'm in a sort of daze.

I've lost my husband today…I've lost my Yuuji.

Why the hell doesn't everybody notice?

And why are the hands on that clock still moving?