Words are dead, until action brings them life.

She had died, I just never told her. So still, we walk, eat and sleep together, in fear one day she'll come to realize it.

After the fire died down, what remained were two charred hearts, that once beat as one.

And when the earth began to rumble and quake, as fear and frantic set in, he ran back inside the house past his wife and children, gathering all the valuables and things he thought of importance, and ran back to his car packing away. After making two trips in and out, he waited in the car for his family to come out, in fear they darted through the darkness and pelting cold rain. When everything calmed down, and the house was intact and safe, he returned putting everything back in its place, had the kids go to bed, told his wife he loves her and turned off the light.

She who dies with the most toys is, nonetheless, still dead.

Nothing like being in a dream, then waking up to a nightmare.