They lay in bed together, her face was turned toward the window.  He reached out his hand tou touch her shoulder.  “How could I ever write about this?” he wondered.  “What words could I ever use to describe the softness of your skin, the perfection of your life?"  The darkness of the bedroom around them, where he had slept alone for years but where he now found his best friend lying with him, seemed to whisper bitterly –

"A life that must now slip away into nothingness.”

“I can’t stand it,” he thought, “I can’t stand it, of all the horrifying things I have seen in this world, this is the worst – that God should create a being as exquisitely beautiful as Jennifer only to kill her slowly like this."  He closed his eyes as they filled with tears and unconsciously his fingers tightened on her shoulder, digging in. 

"I cannot lose you,” he whispered desperately.  He heard her laugh.  She turned over and wrapped her arms around him. He could feel her tears on his chest.  “I don’t want to lose me, either.”

Tears ran down his cheeks.  “I’m an idiot.  I could have been married to you, happily married to you for ten years, but I couldn’t see it.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, her face pressed against his chest.  “It’s just the typical bullshit, baby,” she said in her little girl voice.  “You can defeat the most extravagant bullshit in the world, but there’s nothing you can do against the typical bullshit.”

He laughed, sadly.  “That’s a song by Nietzsche Warhol, isn’t it?”

“Yeah …” she shrugged, trying to soften the blow.

“You really saw the meaning in all those songs, didn’t you?  You saw so much, while I was the writer who had so many people begging me for explanations.”