She lay in her bed, grey and shrunken, dressed in her white nightie. The dog looked up at her moved closer and settled down to sleep again.
“I know that tune so well - my father used to sing it to me. Can you hear it?”
The room was silent.
“An old marching tune from when he was in the war 'keep on until the end' – do you know it?”
Sometimes they would listen to opera or eat ice cream or just sit together. Time stood still for those last moments.
Her conscious & unconscious mixed and easing the pain. Nothing else mattered.
“It's quite nice having these things going on in my head. I know you can't hear them now. I thought everyone could. But it's just me. Some of my favourite pieces. That lovely Puccini duet.”
The noise of the city streets and life ever moving and rushing along outside. Sirens and the smell of fried food and the comfort of distracting small talk with the shop keeper.
They hugged goodbye knowing it wouldn't happen again.