That dying kiss, lingered like neither soul wished to return to the world. Those claiming touches, her fingers tightening against me, my hands learning the quiet language of every place she leaned closer. And those sounds… Gods, those sounds, mingling with the running water, turning an ordinary shower into something almost sacred. I traced kisses across her skin, slow as a prayer, while the water carried our laughter, our whispers, and every little confession neither of us dared make aloud. If those walls could speak, they would blush before they reached the ending.