She lies next to him, her porcelain skin reminding him of those dolls his mother used to treasure. Were he able, he would reach out and hold her hand, but the wreck grips him firmly in its embrace.
I’m sorry, he says, but I know you’d understand; We were never meant to be apart.
Sirens shriek and he looks down at the sky; the pool, crimson and warm, edges further out and away.