Sugar

There’s a switch, at the edge of consciousness, that flicks on when one crosses it, like a lightbulb, or a bomb. A blinding whiteness of nothing.

All of a sudden I feel hot, so very hot, and I start peeling off my coat. Wait, don’t. That’s not right. A distant voice. Is it mine? I frown at the white specks falling all around me. They come in waves, downwards and sideways, like a school of fish in the ocean. They seem soft and fluffy and I smile. Powdered sugar. It looks like powdered sugar.

“Tess.”

A hand tightens around mine. Funny how I didn’t notice it before. Come to think of it, I can’t feel my hands, nor my feet, for that matter. Am I laying down? The world seems a bit sideways. But it is hard to tell with all the sugar.

“I love you, Tess.”

Richard. Where is Richard? The distant voice again.

I think I hear music. Richard loves music. He used to play the cello. I listen to the soft hum of Le Cygne by Saint-Saens. Notes rise and fall with my breathing, like a metronome.

I feel ice-cold lips on my forehead, a full body hug.

“Richard?” I whisper.

“I’m here, darling.” Richard. He holds me tighter and I sigh, content.

I cuddle into my husband’s embrace and I sleep with a smile on my face, listening to the slowing thrum of his heartbeat. I close my eyes. I cannot keep them open any longer.