Her eyes followed him everywhere.

Through the dusty books of the undisturbed library hallway and the antique shop whose air had a scent of magic. She would grin to herself as he walked clumsily. She would laugh, ever so lightly, as he starts off the fall of some wooden dolls from a table which he would then pick up with an embarrassed smile.

He, with his dark-rimmed glasses and a cup of coffee of whose existence he had long forgotten, would sit idle, as if he had all the time in the world. Oh! how she loved it! How calm, how serene was that scene!

All that was of the past.

Now, she could only watch him in her memories, and sometimes faintly in her dreams, where Persephone and her fatal hands could do nothing. Where he would live forever; where he had all the time in the world indeed.