She brought her face close to his cheek and gently brushed his stubble face, whispering woefully, “Farewell, Alexander …”

And she gently squeezed his forced fist, expecting a slight reciprocity, when finally, resigned, she began to loosen her hold, she felt a steel grip that was meant to mark longing and closeness, and only to let go. The words stood inside her throat, and all the words she wished to say, remained silent. Unspoken as inside a inexistent sentence, written in a foreign, long forgotten language. It all ended and all will eventually start on platform 13.