The Tears are Flowing and So is the Wine: A Short Story

“There was not much to do that summer night near the winery, for all was not well in my mind. I could not bear to look up from my computer, as I wrote her swan song. She was not long for this world, the cancer had spread aggressively to her organs and lymph nodes, but she had refused chemotherapy…she wanted to die with dignity, in the company of those who loved her. I sat in her bedroom, writing this story at the Paradise Lane Winery, in the lush, summer hills and glens near the pine forest to give her some fresh air, and also because she loved it here. I remember when we used to come here as kids, and sneak into the wine cellar because we thought the old man who owned it was a wizard, concocting spells in the musty basement. When he caught us one day, I had to convince her that he wasn’t going to turn her into a frog. He turned out to be a kind old man who had just lost his wife to the same horrible disease that was slowly sapping her life away, why God would do something like this to me, I cannot know. I sipped a glass of wine, wiping tears from my eyes. What I would not give for another summer with you, Haruhi, you may never know this, but it is true: You were the only constant in my tumultuous childhood, I knew you as a friend, but you became so much more. The world has seen your beauty and talent through your short but blessed acting and modeling career, and soon, the world will weep. I sit by your bedside, writing your eulogy, a requiem for a dream.”

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