Magic.

The beeps of the heart rate monitor seemed to be getting louder with every minute I passed in that room. My eyes staring at the green waves which looked like they moved along at the speed of light, my hands had never perspired this much and my body seemed to be losing life with every beep. She lay there on the bed, decked in white, static and emotionless. I always called her my angel and this was the first time ever that I wished she wasn't one. The white in the room had become monotonous and her pale, plain face was something I was not used to. I held her hand in my damp hands and even though she was lying there almost lifeless, a touch of her skin was enough to create magic in my mind all over again. This magic took place in reverse, racing back to the time when she used to be as bubbly a person as anyone could hope to meet. My lips couldn't help but curve into a smirk and I let myself be engulfed by this fascinating woman all over again.

I remembered all the times I lay beside her and when the light fell on her face, it emphasized the exquisitely beautiful features of her face. From the point at which her forehead began sliding down towards her perfectly shaped eyebrows till the end tip of her little tapering chin, she was a work of art. There were times when she fell asleep and her sheer beauty engrossed me into staying awake for long hours, just looking at her in admiration and appreciating what the good lord had presented me with. I had never seen a more peaceful person and I doubt I ever will. Her cheeks were as pink as peaches and her lips wore a colour that no fruit or flower in nature yet possessed. When her curly, wavy hair decided to go for a late night walk to the prettiest place imaginable, she brushed them off her face with a little frown and clenched fists just like a little baby. Every night, I was treated to a silent film which changed genre and captivated me to no end. I have had so many sleepless nights because of her and it's strange how the same sentence can have completely different meanings when the context changes. She is still giving me sleepless nights, only the movie has converted drastically from a colour film to a monochromatic one.
Life is the greatest equalizer, they say. Whoever they are, as much as I hate to admit it, are right. The person who gave me the greatest joys in life was now the reason for my greatest sorrow. Her basic needs of life fulfilled by an antiseptic smelling room, an artificial device helping her draw breath and pipes filling her belly. The machines informed me that she was still living but her blank face told me that she wasn't alive. It was at this point I realized that my moist hands had let her hand slip from my grip and I couldn't help but correct that. Abracadabra.
The sound of her voice drained out the beeps in my ears, my mind raced back to the times I had to tell her to stop talking so I could gather what she had said and quickly changed lanes to the times I just let her speak on for long stretches of time. I recollected every time she asked for my counsel on which dress to wear and I couldn't answer, not for the lack of sense of fashion but because of my lack of judgement when it came to her. Every empty coffee cup started filling itself up again and every conversation became a subtitle to the silent film. I could feel goosebumps on my entire body as I thought about the hugs she gave me when she was happy or sad or frustrated or helpless, a hug for every emotion possible. Suddenly, I couldn't remember anything at all. All the magic had disappeared and her voice, muted, like someone pulled the wire. The putrid smelling room seemed surprisingly silent and then my brain registered that the noise had changed.

There was no more beeping, just a single note of high frequency ringing in the room.