He slowly pushed each button on the door code. When he opened the door, the soft sound of music came from the living room so that is where he headed first. The laptop was sitting on the coffee table, but she was not there. He had passed the bathroom and it was also unoccupied. In the kitchen a bottle of melatonin capsules was left out on the counter beside an empty cup. He now knew where she was. The bedroom was dark, only lit by the blue light of the humidifier. He let the light from the hallway illuminate the room more. She was sleeping, her arms wrapped around a pillow. The beside table was littered with used tissues. He walked to her side of the bed and kneeled beside her. Placing his hand on her forehead, he determined she did not have a temperature. In the blue hue cast upon her face, slightly swollen eyes revealed that she had been crying.

He called out her name softly, but there was no answer. She was actually asleep. He gathered all of the tissues and left the room. After a shower, he came back to the bedroom and laid beside her. She had turned in her sleep while he was gone and now faced him. Nearing sleep himself he heard her start to mumble. Melatonin usually made her talk in her sleep.

“Jackson. Jackson,” she said his name in a melancholic voice. He turned to face her.

She murmured a few incomprehensible words. “You can leave me,” were her next words followed by more mumbling and then “running on borrowed time.”

He suddenly took in a sharp breath and waited for more. Her words had stopped. A single tear fell across her nose and rolled down her cheek. He reached out a finger to wipe off the tear. In an automatic action he pulled her into his arms and her sleeping form adjusted to fit against his body.

The date had been set for him to leave the country. He would be leaving soon. She was trying to accept the end.