The atmosphere became very sad in the hallway, where Christabell was cared for alone, separated from the other patients. Richard was still standing, this time he folded his arms across his chest. His memory was dragged on one night where they had just finished dinner, celebrating Christabell's birthday.
"Do I look old?" Christabel asked.
"No." Richard shook his head as he drove his own car.
Christabell furrowed her brows, she even looked smug. "You should be telling the truth, Rich." The protest.
"For me, you are always beautiful dear, just like when we first met. I always saw you like that." Richard replied.
Christabell sighed deeply, "Am I going to be old and die, Rich?" She asked suddenly.
"Hey . . . why are you sad on your birthday. You should be happy dear, is there a lack of gifts?" Richard teased, he took Christabell's hand and kissed it.
