an end then, she said, an end to sadness, an end to hope. i had been dreaming, she sat against the headboard, arms wrapped around knees pulled up underneath her chin. there were tears in her eyes, thin rivers of blotched mascara down her cheeks, i was turning. her voice was hoarse as if she was shouting, a cigarette dangled from loose fingers, traces of ashes peppered the sheets. no longer dreaming i stared at the ceiling, measured it’s length and width, judging the weight of it. and i found myself lacking, my body bruised from the night before, perhaps we had been fighting, my knuckles swollen from punching walls. she inhaled the cigarette deeply, furious glow and a slight tremble in her hand. i watched and felt the hot furnace of it fill my lungs, felt it shorten my breath as she exhaled. catching myself i whispered, i never thought i would die this way, but she was gone.