I Need To Practice My Dancing

She Will Be Gone

I look on to the vast amount of gloomy faces and bodies draped in black. Such a foreign, sad color to the life of her.

She was a mere seven years old when it happened, she was in the drive way, my son didn't mean to do it. He didn't see her there...

She would have been beautiful beyond belief, with such grace and poise like a dandelion on an early spring morning. Standing up to speak would probably be the death of me, because how could I possibly begin to explain the numerous things the multitudes should, need, to remember about her.

I won't see her grow up, go to prom, or walk down the aisle... when I thought of giving her away, I never imagined it would have been to death.

I run over a million thoughts in my head, how she would ask me to help her practice her dancing. Or how she would assure me that there's still a little bit more time before she would grow up, a week, six months.

She would beg me, "Please, daddy please," even though she knew I would concede without the begging. And so I would dance with my Cinderella, while she is here in my arm. And I would dance with Cinderella while she is here in my arms, because all too soon the clock will strike midnight. Our time would be up... and she'll be gone.
-.-.-.-.-.

Short story? complete.
For those of you who are confused, the 3 first chapters are things and futures he wasn't able to spend with his little girl. Because honestly, we don't know when our time is going to be up, and i guess she had less time then the sum of us. I hope you guys like that little taste of a not so happy ending, till next time.
--Rebekah