"Speak a word of comfort, my darling, speak a word of love", she pleads. The air is charged with so much emotion that even the trecherous wind is still. The little room is devoid of illumination but for one golden ray of sunlight streaming thickly through a broken shutter. Darkness calms her, sets her at ease and puts her doubts to rest. Driven by one sharp shred of hope, she inches nearer and takes his large cold hand in her much tinier, warmer ones, "I know we've been strange for all these days, but let's put that behind us now. Please, let's move on!", she begs. The master of deflection; he is in a space of cool detachment. His eyes are closed in what appears to be placid thought; her pleading and sighing does not break his inner peace. Ironically, his dispassionate inaction drives her to violent tears. She begins to wail and moan by his side, "Speak a word of comfort, my darling. Please! Speak a word of love."
The commotion summons a tall man into the room, he is shrouded in black. Gently, he lays his warm hands on her swooning shoulders. "I'm very sorry my child, but it's time to go. Please leave him in peace", he says and slowly shuts the coffin lid.