This morning my bed was empty.

I woke up and for some reason I panicked. My pillow was huddled to my stomach, much like I always held her in my sleep. I looked around myself wildly, still half asleep, blinking the haziness from my eyes as I desperately tried to find her.

"I'm here, dear," her voice told me softly, as she stepped from the shadows to my right.

"Jess," I sighed, my worry melting into a smile as I turned to face her. "Where did you go?"

"I just had to go," she told me, smiling gently. "Don't worry. I'm alright."

I sat up, holding the pillow still to my chest and staring at her. She was perfection. Her dark hair curled loosely about her shoulders, and her eyes shone with the vitality and life they always had. Her face was lined, yet still as entrancing as it had been the moment I met her. Everything about her seemed to glow in the moonlight coming in through my open window.

"You are so beautiful," I said, my eyes unable to move themselves from her face.

She smiled fondly at me. "Thank you, Dan," she said softly. "You always were good about making me feel lovely."

"You are lovely," I told her earnestly, smiling my own new smile. "You are as lovely now as you were when we met, my love."

Her smile seemed to change, her eyes taking on a new glow, as if of tears, as she turned and walked away.

--

Do you know how it feels to wake and not know why? To just have a clenching in your chest with no cause and no real feeling?

"Are you there?" I asked the darkness, unsure what would respond to the doubt resonating within me.

"I'm here," said her soft, beautiful voice. Her words had always been like honeyed music to my ears, calming my heart and soothing my spirit like nothing else could.

I turned to her, relieved; she sat, on the edge of the bed, as she sometimes did when she needed to speak with me about something. "Good," I said, sitting up to study her. "What is it, Jess?"

"Nothing," she told me, her expression tender and loving. "I was just watching you."

For some reason this statement failed to puzzle me. "Why did you leave?" I asked her, remembering.

Her smile turned slightly sad. "I just needed to leave," she told me. "Were you dreaming?"

"I was," I replied, a smile growing on my features.

"What did you dream?" She inquired, just as she always did.

"I dreamt that we were wandering," I told her, trying to recall. "We were wandering in a world of glass, spires and ravines and sharp trees all around us. We were trying to find our way, and I got separated from you. I could see you through the glass all around, but neither of us could find our way."

"How sad," she replied, her smile fading only slightly. "And how did it end?"

"I can't remember," I answered, frowning. "I thought I could, but I can't."

--

When I opened my eyes this time my body felt different. I was unsure how, but it was just… strange. Familiar, yet strange, as if a feeling from ages ago.

"Do you feel it?" She asked, her voice close to my ear, so close I swore that I could feel her breath on my face.

"I feel it," I told her, my breath quickening. Everything within me felt revitalized, felt new and… and young.

When I looked at her I saw the change. Her skin was smooth and silky as it once had been, her eyes shining with the same brightness, her hair thicker and laced with no gray. A broad smile came over my face, and I looked down at myself. My muscles had returned to their former state, my hands were no longer gnarled.

"How?" I asked breathlessly, staring at her in raptures.

She smiled gently in return. "Does it matter how?" She inquired in return.

My smile broadened and I reached for her, but she stood quickly from the bed. I stood with her, reaching out once more, and she danced just beyond my grasp.

"We mustn't, Dan," she told me somberly.

"We mustn't what?" I demanded, confused as I stretched my hand out again. She took a step back. "Why can't I touch you?"

She merely shook her head. "Enjoy this, darling," she said. "Do you feel it?"

"I want to feel you," I insisted, lunging forward, but she leapt spryly onto the bed. I followed her again and again, trying to touch with my hands, my feet, to hold her in my arms and kiss her eyelids like I'd always done. "Just let me touch you, Jess."

But every time she was beyond my reach.

"I love you, Dan," she told me, her eyes searching mine.

"I know that," I assured her, trying to grasp her hand. "I love you, too. I've always loved you. Just let me touch you, Jess!"

She stopped moving, staring into my eyes with a look of such profound sadness, such an aching that I froze, as well. "But Dan… I can't reach you."

--

"Dad? Dad!"

When I opened my eyes I was standing near the doorway to my room, wearing my flannel pants and loose white undershirt. They felt rough and harsh against my skin, as if it were used to something softer.

My knee hurt, which was probably due to the fact that I was without my cane. My gnarled limbs could no longer take the strain of simple movement.

"Dad, what are you doing? What were you thinking?"

I looked desperately to my bed, hoping beyond hope that I would see something other than what I knew I would find.

Emptiness. My bed was empty. It was so empty that it seemed like a sin, that it hurt my eyes simply to look at it. It was… it was the ugliest thing I had ever seen; crisp white sheets, barely slept in, a neat blanket. Only one pillow. It was so hollow that it made my heart ache.

"Dad," my son repeated, putting a hand on my shoulder. "What were you doing?"

I licked my lips, opening my mouth slowly. "I was talking to her."

"Talking to who, Dad?" Jeremy inquired, though I could tell by the quiver in his voice that he knew. "Dad, there is no one here."

"She was here!" I insisted, my voice cracking. "She was here! I saw her! We talked and smiled and danced around the room!" I looked at him, my eyes filled with tears that I knew wouldn't help either of us. My voice was pleading when I said, "She was here. I talked to her."

Jeremy's eyes overflowed as he looked at me, his heart breaking making a sound identical to my own. "I know, Dad. I talked to her, too."