He suddenly wakes up, screaming. He shoots up in the bed. His whole body is shaking, sweating and he feels as if someone had tipped a bucket of icy water over him. His eyes are bloodshot. Panting for breath he looks around, hoping that what he just saw was just his worst nightmare. But it isn't. As he realises that she's gone, he falls back onto the bed, with tears in his eyes and he begins to cry. Crying for his love. Its been two days now. Two days since the awful event happened. He still cant believe it. Doesn't want to believe it. But he realises that he would have to face the truth. The truth that she was gone. That she died. Died in his arms. He still remembered the words. The words that she spoke to him that night. Her last words. ' Tell our story Christian,... that way I'll always be with you.', she had told him. And he promised her that he would. Promised to tell their story. He sits down at his typewriter, pulls out a sheet of paper which he places in the typewriter, and slowly touches the keys. He's searching for the words but can't find them. It seems that his mind has gone blank. He wants to find the words but is struggling to put them together. He tries to remember. Tries to start off. But when he thinks of it, of the time they had together, the time that was truly the best time of his life, he can feel tears slowly strolling down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, and tries to remember. Tries not to cry. Tries to face the truth. But he cant seem to remember anything without letting more tears come. Every time he closes his eyes he sees her. Sees the woman he loved. He looks around his apartment, outside the window, outside in the streets. Everything he looks at seems to remind him of her. He buries his face in his hands, but doesn't cry. Doesn't let himself. Then he slowly looks up, at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Then he feels a cold wind blowing across his face. And then he slowly starts to remember.