eeling every mile with every step, every stone and pebble beneath the sole of my foot, and every second that ticked by, I eventually arrived at the hospital, exhausted and totally drained. There was still one friend who needed me.

Olivia and Opal must have seen it in my face when I entered the room; they must have seen the dark colors emanating from my body, the way my shoulders were slumped, the way the entire weight of everything in the atmosphere had suddenly decided to balance itself on my shoulders. I knew from the look in their tired eyes that they knew. Of course they knew, it was all a part of our job. At least twice a year we all met special people who consumed our days and nights and all of our thoughts, and each time, with each person, we had to go through the process of losing them. Opal liked to teach us that it wasn't us losing them; it was a matter of them moving on. But I couldn't see how I wasn't losing Elizabeth. Without having any control, any ability to make her hold on to me, to still see me, she was slipping through my fingers. What did I win? What did I gain? Every time I left a friend, I was as lonely as the day before I met them and in Elizabeth's case, lonelier, because I knew that I was missing out on the possibility of so much more. And here's the sixty-four-million-dollar question: What do our friends get out of it?

A happy ending?

Would I call Elizabeth's current situation a happy ending? Mothering a six-year-old boy she never wanted, worrying about a missing sister, a mother who had deserted her, and a complex father. Wasn't her life the exact same as when I arrived?

But I guess this wasn't Elizabeth's ending. Remember the detail, Opal always tells me. I suppose what had changed in Elizabeth's life was her mind, the way she was thinking. All I had done was merely planted the seed of hope; she alone could help it to grow. And because she was starting to lose sight of me, perhaps that seed was being cultivated.

I sat in the corner of the hospital room watching Opal clinging to Geoffrey's hands as if she were hanging off the edge of the cliff. Perhaps she was. You could see in the expression of her face that she was willing for everything to be as it once was; I bet she would have done a deal with the devil right then and there if it would have brought him back. She would have gone to hell and back, she would have faced every single one of her fears just for him, right then.

The things we would do to go back in time.

The things we don't do the first time 'round.

Opal's words were being spoken through Olivia's lips; Geoffrey could no longer speak. Tears were falling from Opal's eyes and landing on his lifeless hands, her bottom lip was trembling. She wasn't ready to let go. She had never let go of him and now it was too late, he was leaving before she had a chance.

She was losing him.

Life seemed dreary to me right then. As depressing as the cracked blue paint on the walls built to hold up a building intended to heal. They should have been stronger.

Geoffrey slowly raised a hand; you could tell he was mustering all his strength. The movement surprised everyone, as he hadn't spoken in days, hadn't reacted to anything at all. No one was more surprised than Opal, who suddenly felt the touch of his hand across her face, as he wiped away her tears. Contact after twenty years. He could finally see her. Opal kissed his large hand and allowed it to cradle her small face and comfort her through her shock, relief, and regret.

Geoffrey gave one last gasp, his chest rose one final time and fell, his hand dropping to the bed. She had lost him and I wondered if Opal still was telling herself that he had merely moved on.

I decided then and there that I needed to have control of my final moment. I needed to say goodbye to Elizabeth properly, tell her the truth about me one final time so she wouldn't think I had run off and deserted her. I didn't want her to spend years being bitter about the man she once loved who had broken her heart. No, that would have been too easy for her; that would have given her an excuse never to love again. And she wanted to love again. I didn't want her to spend years, like Geoffrey, waiting for my return and finally dying a lonely old woman.

Olivia nodded to me encouragingly as I stood up, kissed Opal on the top of her head from where she sat facedown on the bed, still grasping his hand and wailing so loudly I knew it was the sound of her heart breaking. I didn't notice until I got out into the chilly air that tears were streaming down my face.

I began to run.

Elizabeth was dreaming. She was in an white room and she was dancing around, sprinkling and splashing colors of paint all around her. She was singing the song she hadn't been able to get out of her head for the past two months and she was so happy and free as she leaped around the room, watching the thick, pulpy paint land on the walls with a splish, splosh.

"Elizabeth," a voice was whispering. She swirled around the room, but no one was there. "Elizabeth," the voice whispered and her body started to rock slightly as she continued to dance.

"Mmm?" she responded happily.

"Wake up Elizabeth, I need to talk to you," came the sweet voice.

She opened her eyes slightly, spotted Ivan's worried handsome face beside her, rubbed her hand over his face and for a moment they stared deeply into each other's eyes. She reveled in the look he gave her, tried to return it, and lost the battle with sleep and allowed her eyelids to flutter closed again. She was dreaming, she knew that, but she couldn't keep her eyes open.

"Can you hear me?"

"Mmm," she responded, twirling and twirling and twirling. "Elizabeth, I came to tell you that I have to go." "Why?" she murmured sleepily. "You just got here. Sleep." "I can't, I'd love to, but I can't. I've got to go, remember I told you this would happen?"

She felt his warm breath on her neck, smelled his skin; fresh and sweet, as though he had bathed in blueberries.

"Mmm," she replied. "Ekam Eveileb," she stated, painting blueberries across the wall, reaching her hand to the paint and tasting it as though it was freshly squashed.

"Something like that. You don't need me anymore, Elizabeth," he said softly. "You're going to stop seeing me now. Someone else will need me."

She ran a hand across his jawline, felt his soft, stubble-free skin. She ran the length of the room, running her hand along the red paint. This tasted like strawberries; she looked down to the can of paint in her hand and spotted them, fresh strawberries piled high.

"I've figured something out, Elizabeth. I've figured out what my life is all about and it's not that different to yours."

"Mmm." She smiled.

"Life is made up of meetings and partings. People come into your life every day, you say good morning, you say good evening, some stay for a few minutes, some stay for a few months, some a year, others a whole lifetime. No matter who it is, you meet and then you part. I'm so glad I met you, Elizabeth Egan; I'll thank my lucky stars for that. I think I wished for you all of my life," he whispered. "But now it's time for us to part."

"Mmm," she murmured sleepily. "Don't go." He was with her now in the room, they were chasing each other around, splashing each other, teasing each other. She didn't want him to go; she was having so much fun.

"I have to go." His voice cracked. "Please understand."

The tone of his voice made her stop running. She dropped the paintbrush from her hand. It fell to the floor, leaving a red smudge on the brand-new white carpet. She looked up at him; his face was crumpled in sadness.

"I loved you the moment I saw you and I will always love you, Elizabeth." She felt him kiss her below her left ear, so soft and sensual she didn't want him to stop.

"I love you too," she said sleepily.

But he did stop. She looked around the paint-splattered room and he was gone.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of her voice. Had she just said, "I love you?" She leaned up on one elbow and groggily looked around the bedroom.

But the room was. She was alone. The sun was rising over the tips of the mountains, night had ended, and it was the start of a new day. She closed her eyes and continued dreaming.