Neela sat by Kenna’s hospital bed, brushing back wispy white hair, the gurgling pumps only recently gone silent. Kenna’s hand rested, limp, in Neela’s.
“My Heart.” Neela whispered. “Cancer? It’s unfair. To be human is temporary; you come and go, and hope you did good. But there’s always an end.”
She caressed Kenna’s face. “Thank you for our home. For our love. For being my Heart.” She kissed Kenna’s lips, twice, then pressed Kenna’s palm to her cheek. The biosensor beeped; her maintenance panel whirred open.
With a touch of her own slender plastic finger, she joined her lifelong love.
By day, Stace Johnson is a mild-mannered IT professional, but at night, he becomes a mild-mannered writer, poet, and musician. He’s a common fixture at Colorado literary SF conventions, and is making his first appearances at Denver Comic Con and Westercon 71 in 2018. For more information, please see his publications page at http://www.lytspeedconsulting.com/publications/.
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