Celeste guessed grief truly was a powerful emotion, powerful enough to bring two people who were not in particularly good standing together. Like that of a broken mirror brought together with melted gold.
Because it was just that beautiful—two men holding one another as silent tears fell on their cheeks, telling each other their condolences and apologising for not having been there sooner despite having their time taken by busy work schedules.
Celeste stood at the side, and after looking at the loving scene before her, she turned to face Nirmala, who lay on the bed, her face as pale as paper, her lips turning slightly blue.
Her body was covered by a thick white blanket, with intense light shining over her, creating shadows around her stiff figure.
Celeste looked at her and contemplated her own mortality and whether the life she had lived so far was a life she would be proud of. Whether she would look back and remember her life fondly.
