Beau sleeps soundly close to my lap. It's been a few hours since I woke up. I went back to sleep after our conversation. Exhaustion from all the crying I had done and the injuries I had sustained took hold of me. I gently stroke Beau's hair while he sleeps. Lifting my hand away from his head for a second, I wipe away the teardrop falling from my eyes. I’ve been doing some thinking. And what I’m thinking about makes me tear up. I sniffle a little, and the sound causes Beau to wake up.
"You’re crying," he says, seeing the tears in my eyes.
"No, I’m not," I lie, wiping the evidence from my face. "I need to talk to you."
"What is it, mon amour?"
A bullet tears through my heart hearing him call me that. His love. Placing a hand on his face, I try to memorize every detail. This is the last
