"Maureen, don't go. I need you."
They were the last six words Maureen Jones heard before her eyelids fluttered and closed for the last time â€" her final breath slipping silently into the vastness of the private room on the top floor of St. Josephine of the Sacred Shrine hospital. Angry tears poured from Tom's bitter eyes and splashed onto the starch-white sheet that had been changed only minutes before. Now the sheets were dark grey â€" soaked in melancholy and morose tears from Tom, the man who waited.
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