I'm a quarter of the way there, by boogity... eheheh... I'll be done in like 2017 or something...
Twenty-five: Hold My Hand
Characters: Hershel Layton, Claire
At first, he was a little worried for his sanity. Be strong, she said, but how could he?
It was cruel, getting such a brief glimpse into the past. It had always hurt, and now he had lost her all over again. He could hardly stay standing.
He could still feel it all, as if she had never left; the pressure of her arms holding him securely, the feather-light touch of her lips, the soft ghost of a goodbye. Then, she was gone, just like that, just like the first time.
It wasn't fair, he wanted to scream at the sky. It just wasn't fair, to get only a small taste of something he held so dear to his heart. He hadn't even known it was her until her time was almost up.
Why hadn't she told him sooner? He would have believed her, no matter what she said to him. His mind might have called him crazy, but his heart would have known.
He felt tears running down his cheeks, heard the soft drip-drop of them hitting the pavement.
Why hadn't he known? He should have known! …Why…
A cold wind blew lightly past him, but he didn't feel it. As snow began to drift down around him, he slowly, hesitantly, removed his famous top-hat. He cradled it in his hands; her last, precious gift.
And he cried silently, shoulders shaking with grief. He cared not for who was around him, only feeling the gaping loss of someone who should have been there. Her name occupied his mind; things he should have said, things that meant even more now that it was too late.
He would have given anything to have just a few seconds more. He would have given anything just to hold her hand.