Again: Another Ending
She woke up in a cold sweat. She sat straight up and looked around her. Tears flooding her eyes, she tore the sheet away from her body and got up, rushing to the patio doors. She pushed them open and rushed out and then down the stairs. She went to the water's edge and stared into the blackness of the Pacific Ocean.
In frustration she screamed into the night. She stood in the surf and wept. After all she had done, after everything she had planned and carried out, her life was still meaningless. She had missed the one thing that had made any of it worthwhile. He had died in that hospital bed so many years ago.
Her dream had only been a dream, after all. She wasn't psychic. He had been ill, she had known that, but in her dream he had lived. Survived and gone on. In her dream he still lived.
She was all alone in the real world. No matter what she ever did it would never mean anything. Because he wasn't there to share it with. And it could never be anyone else. She had tried and failed, so many times. None of them were him. None of them ever would be.
She stared into the ocean and begged, once again, for some great unknown force to allow her the strength to walk into that blackness and just fade away, end herself. She stood there for a very long time. The sun rose over the mountains behind her and she finally turned to look up at it and curse the day.
She would go back to the house and she would make it through another week. She would work and eat and breathe and go on and on. When she finally passed out from exhaustion after days of no sleep and when the pills finally wore off, she would do it all, again.
In thirty years, they would find her body on that same beach, age and dementia finally taking their toll. She would simply be gone and no one would even wonder why she was there.
