Disillusionment
How novel it had seemed. Not immortality, but an extended life. A chance to live longer than a human should. A young Mary had been entranced by the idea.
Her family had told her to be wary. With a sad smile, her mother had run a strand of Mary's hair between her fingers.
"Things are not always as they appear, Mary. Remember that."
Yet, as time passed, she thought she knew better. Well-educated and soon to be an educator herself, how could she not? But she had been foolish, frivolous.
Mary looked to the night-sky with a raised brow.
"I suppose you are pleased," she said to nobody in particular.
Still, her mother heard her.
She returned inside, into the warmth. Small but homely, the ambient lights showed the way through the house. To the bedroom. Mary hesitated outside, her hand curling around the doorknob. A slow inhale and exhale.
Opening the door, her gaze immediately traced the life within. She could feel the struggling pulse of the heart, almost as if it were her own.
Sitting beside the bed, she reached out and took the withered hand resting atop the sheets. Still so large and calloused.
"Mary?"
The voice was worn with age, but sentiment could still be heard there.
"Yes, dear?"
"How were the stars?"
She released a small laugh, her lips flickering upward for a moment. "Beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you, my love."
Mary clutched his hand tighter than she intended, forcibly gulping back whatever emotion was rising.
"I think you'll find, Bert, that they don't shine as bright as you."
With a low chuckle, he peered across at her, his eyes glistening brightly. He didn't move; he barely could. They were an age apart but that needn't matter. Mary wouldn't leave him. She had told him so and he had pressed his hand against her chest, feeling the life circulating within. He would never leave her too.