The End

“I had planned my entire life out when I was a child: I would graduate college with a science degree, work in a laboratory in a prestigious university, get married at 28, have two children: one boy, one girl, live in a buttercup yellow house with a red roof in a quiet suburban town, and die at the ripe old age of a hundred.”

“How did that work out for you?” asked Frank as he leaned back on the couch.

“Let’s just say my wacky plans never worked,” Amelia chuckled.

He let out a hearty laugh, “You seem pretty upbeat about that.”

“Well things never go the way I want them to, and I guess I’m finally seeing the humor in that. Being at the end of the line really puts things into perspective.”

Frank stood up and approached the bed. He grasped Amelia’s thin bony hand with one hand and held it against his chest as he tenderly stroked her face. A comfortable silence rested between the two as they listened the sharp beeping of Amelia’s heart.

Amelia squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to a hundred with you.”

“You’ve already filled my heart enough to last me a hundred years,” he replied, his gentle affection spilling over his words.

Amelia was on her death bed at the age of fifty.