Chronic fatigue syndrome is a state of profound fatigue that is not improved by bed rest and that may get worse with physical or mental activity. This fatigue significantly interferes with daily activities and work.
I have that syndrome.
My name is...
This is the end... I'm so sad to see my babies go but I'm glad that they're happy within themselves and their relationship so it feels like the right time.
Sorry for any mistakes.
[...]
Will's PoV
4 years later
"One, two, three!" I hear a shout, and then i'm falling.
It's as if I'm flying through the air, the wind rushing into my ears; joyous tears rising in my eyes.
The parachute expands above me, a bright spectrum of delight.
I spot the green mass of fields, many miles beneath me and marvel at the tiny specs of white- sheep- that live in them.
The intense dropping feeling has died down and, instead, is overpowered by a sense of freedom.
"Will!" I hear a call from my right, and turn to face a hysterical Freddie- the wind gushing through his wild locks of hair.
I laugh at his panicked face, though the sound gets lost somewhere in the sky. His hands have an almost death-grip on his harness, a golden band shimmering on his ring finger.
It matches the one on mine- a simple yet stunningly delicacy.
The ground gets closer, as do the trees and the birds. I can hear the faint sound of cars zooming past- full of people with their own problems and relationships.
But, here I am, at one with the clouds.
I feel...truly alive.
[...]
Another 2 years later
"Oi, Captain!" I hear Megan call, "I think I can see the land!"
I laugh, pushing at her shoulder, as we paddle the small boat back to shore.
Soft waves lap at the sides of our 'ship', creating a calming atmosphere in the air.
Sniffing slightly, I am welcomed by the faint scent of salt; mixed in with the aroma of fish and sand.
I giggle, a truly delighted sound, and glide my paddle through the water, bringing us closer to the bank.
We're greeted by the gentle chuckles of my husband, building a large row of sandcastles.
He grins at me, softly tapping the shoulder of a little girl- barely 3 years old. Long blonde hair sprouts from her head like a lion's mane, tied back into frizzy bun. She wears a checked yellow top and a white pinafore- stained with odd grains of sand and water.
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As soon as she sees me and my sister- a huge toothy grin is thrown our way. With a clap of the hands and excitable squeal she shouts-
