[ WP ] You and your partner are immortals who have been living amongst the human race for 500 years . Suddenly , your partner has begun to age extremely fast for unknown reasons and is dying .

I actually did n't see it at first. We always had some wear marks on out skin: laugh lines, crows feet, imperfections that told stories of our happiness. 
 
 One day I noticed a slight sag to her skin. Not that I cared of course, she was my love and it did n't matter what she looked like to me. But I was worried. 
 
 A month after that I came home to find her collapsed on our bathroom floor sobbing, he hands full of grey hair. She had been trying to hide it from me for the last year so I would n't worry about her. 
 
 I held her as close as I could that night. 
 
 Three months later she was in a hospital. We both knew it would n't do any good, but it felt good to pretend. She had aged so much in a year and a half that I'm sure I looked like a favored grandchild comforting the family matriarch in her passing days, and we did n't correct anyone in order to protect our secret. 
 
 She was dying. It mad no sense to pretend otherwise, at least to myself. For her I never let on that I might be worried about her end. I tried to tell myself that it was bound to happen eventually. We've both seen friends innumerable grow and pass before us. When you're immortal, death is as familiar to you as breathing. 
 
 This kind of death was something I have n't known for a very long time. 
 
 I would be alone. 
 
 I would be the last immortal to walk this earth. 
 
 I chose to reject the thought when it would creep back into my waking world; but in my dreams I was always alone calling out into the darkness for her. She was my one comfort in this stupid ever-changing world. And she was going to die. 
 
 -- - 
 
 It happened on a Wednesday. 
 
 I was reading to her, as I did most days. On this particular day it was a well worn first edition of *The Great Gatsby*, a favorite of hers. 
 
 ``... And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.'' I closed the book and studied the love of my life. She was aged, but it was her. Her laugh lines and crows feet and every imperfection that reminded us of the happy 500 years we've spent together. 
 
 `` Charles,'' Her voice had a bittersweet happiness to it, `` It's time.'' 
 
 I held her hand in mine. She felt so weak. 
 
 She smiled at me, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and she was gone. 
 
 -- - 
 
 I buried her on hillside in Scotland, where no one would be able to disturb her.
