When they first met, April had just fallen on a patch of ice, skinned
the side of her arm on the concrete. A dark-haired, blue-eyed man with
the sweetest smile offered her a hand up, asked if she was alright, and
kissed the back of her hand like that was supposed to make it better.
She decided he was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.
When a car hit her, crossing the street, and she broke her arm, he held her the whole subway ride to the hospital, singing softly to her, kissing her forehead every time a jolt of the train prompted a whimper from her, and she decided he was her hero.
When she died, he kissed her hands, and her forehead, and her lips, and begged through tears for her to come back, and decided maybe being a hero didn't mean as much as he thought.