I want to see her again

Fatima had sent many older souls off. They were usually already gone by the time she got there. They didn't hurt her as much as most other jobs. Eve was the exception. She was 90, a miracle by any measure - most people died before they even turned 50. As a result, Eve was a celebrity of sorts, with people often coming to her for wisdom. Whatever it was they wanted, Eve didn't have it - as she adamantly and often told them. As she said when she first met Fatima, she "just wanted to be left alone and die in peace." Eve was sad. Deeply, irrevocably sad, in a way that Fatima had never seen or felt before. She was also sick, and knew her time was finally coming. She had called for Fatima herself, and the Soul Songstress stayed in her spare room, taking care of her in the meantime. Eve was standoffish at first. Even as Fatima fed her, cleaned her, bathed her, she had little to say other than to pay the woman. Until one day, when Fatima returned with a bundle of groceries and heard Eve sobbing in her room. She gingerly opened her door, asking if the woman was alright. Eve wiped her tears right away, too proud to be seen crying, even though her runny nose and red face betrayed her. "Just a moment of weakness, Songstress." That was what Eve always called Fatima - never by her name, only her title. It irked her, but she grit her teeth over it, like many things. "You can talk to me about it if you want," Fatima said, sitting in the nearby chair. Singing for a soul was often easier when a connection was built between the two parties. Fatima thought about the ironic pain that came with such a connection often. Eve lay silent in her bed for a moment, before finally speaking. "I just want it to finally end," she said, nearly on the verge of tears. A surge of anger bubbled up in Fatima. Without thinking, she spoke. "With all due respect, ma'am, would you not consider yourself blessed to live for so long? There are so many who's lives were taken too soon, yet here you are, begging for death. Is that not disrespectful to th-" Before Fatima could finish, she flinched as a plate crashed against the wall next to her. "Mind your tongue!" Eve shouted. Fatima sat stunned, unsure of what to do or say. The awkward moment threatened to become a chasm between the two women. Fatima was just about to excuse herself and recommend a new Singer to replace her when Eve finally spoke again. "The love of my life died when we were both 22 years old." She stopped for a few moments, as if she was asking for permission to continue. She took Fatima's silence as a cue to continue. "Her name was Hena. We met in the same college, studying magic. She was everything I wasn't: charming. Intelligent. Witty. She could make anyone around her laugh. Everyone adored her. But she picked me." "We were planning to marry once we finished school. But then the Empire fell. We tried to escape west, but she..." Tears welled in Eve's eyes as she turned to Fatima. "As far as I am concerned Fatima, I died with Hena that day. My love was taken from me. I have been a shambling corpse ever since. I have not *lived* since. So don't you dare try to lecture me about what I should or should not want." Fatima nodded, her shame flaring across her face. "Of course. I did not know. I'm sorry." Eve's eyes softened at this. She shook her head. "How could you have, dear? I didn't tell you. I haven't talked about this with anyone in fifty years. It felt good to finally let it out, to be honest." Another moment of silence passed. "I want to see her again, Fatima. I want to be with her again. Do you understand?" "I do." The older Fatima got, long after Eve died, the more she understood.