“Was he still, somehow, watching over her?”

“He could have watched her all night. He could watch her for an eternity and still never be able to capture the essence of what it is that makes ‘love’.”

“As he watches the sun rise, what grieves him is that he failed her. He thinks of the terror she felt. They tell him it was quick, as if that will somehow confine the horror.”

“No one could hear them over the carriage wheels, yet somehow it felt right to whisper. His eyes dropped to her gaping bodice. One nipple was reddened and still moist. He averted his eyes, swallowing. His erection, silly thing, didn’t know the show was over.”

“Could he love this girl the way she deserved? He could love her with everything that he was, and still it wouldn't be enough. He would fuck up somehow, because that is what he did.”

“I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My Valentine's jest somehow seems less funny.”