Disclaimer: I am a college student. That means I own nothing.
Author's Note: I'm not really sure where this came from. It's short, but I like it. Review if you'd like. I'd appreciate it.
All too quickly her hand grew gold in his. Still, he retained his firm grip, as if his unrelenting grasp and broken pleas could somehow draw back her spirit and breathe life into his beloved once more.
The household servants let the man be, fearing his wrath if they dared to disturb their master in such a sorrowful hour. They too shared in the master's grief. Their mistress had been exceptionally kind and thoughtful to them all and many had counted her as a personal friend, even if caste separated them immeasurably.
Even the light from the sick room's only window fell on the shell of the woman in soft, radiant beams, as if trying to shelter her from the chill touch of death. Still, it was not enough. Nothing would ever be adequate to take her place in the man's shattered heart.
She was gone. A cruel joke, it seemed for the master to remain when his heart had passed away. After all of the strife and conflict the patrician endured to take the plebian as his bride, she was gone. It was over.
He felt so… empty.