Mark's POV
Winter passes. For a time, life is stable. Moritz's presence fades from new to average. We celebrate birthdays; Maureen's in February (near Valentine's Day, of course), Roger's in March. Moritz turned 16 April 9th. I capture everything, saving memories for harder times.
By the beginning of May, the city finally thaws. I shoot outside more often, focusing on the charms of New York.
Some days it rains, and on these days I sit for hours in the Life Café, or simply alone in the flat as the world cleanses itself.
On one of those days, Moritz and I move quietly around the flat, listening to the rain outside and the drops falling into the pail under the broken skylight.
Suddenly, a hard bang comes from the door before it slides open, revealing Roger, soaking and shaking like a leaf, though the rain outside is warm.
"Mark…Mark," he croaks, and I grab him, hold him up as his knees give way. "It's Mimi."
Moritz is at my side, helping Roger onto the couch as he begins heaving out sobs, sounds which wind me like a punch in the stomach.
"Roger, tell us. What's wrong? What happened to Mimi?"
"She -" he chokes out, then starts again. "She collapsed. She's in the hospital now. Oh God! Not now."
"Roger," I say, keeping my voice calm even though my dread is increasing. "Is it -?"
"The virus? Yeah. Mark? She's –" He can't finish. Moritz sits frozen and silent.
"Did you come here just to tell us?" I ask. Roger nods. I rise from the sofa, quickly collecting odds and ends; my camera, wallet, whatever I may need. "I'm calling the others and then we're going to the hospital."
* * *
Mimi is sleeping hen we arrive. The three of us surround her bed. Her tiny frame appears so frail under the white sheets. She's hooked up to several machines. They blink at us, keeping her alive.
Roger falls to his knees, gripping her hand in his. "Meems? Please wake up. Please." She doesn't stir.
"I can't," he says roughly, and pushed through the door. I look at Moritz, who hasn't taken his eyes off of Mimi. He sinks into the chair at her side and just watches.
He sits for an hour, the hour I spend with Roger in the hospital lobby. Roger can't watch her die. Moritz can't let her go. When I return to Mimi's room to tell Moritz I'm leaving, I find him, his face streaked with tears, clutching her hand as if her body holds the answers to life itself.
I can read his expression clearly: I die without you.