His fingers left bruises on her pale arm, and Philip Shaw slowly loosened his grip. He lowered his head to look at Aldana Candi's drowsy face, then closed his eyes slightly. The expression on his face still faintly retained a hint of concealed anger, but he had gradually calmed down.
"I won't let you go..." he muttered softly, not sure to whom he was speaking, or perhaps just talking to himself, "You will get better... I won't let you leave me..."
His voice became softer and softer, to the point where almost no one could hear what he was saying. Yet, his fingers, resting on Aldana Candi, trembled slightly, like they had been stimulated neurotically.
Resentment and aversion meet, love and separation part, desires unfulfilled.
The eight sufferings of life.
*
The sun set, melting away gradually from the other side of the mountain like thawing snow.
