Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair.

They were thick and almost horizontal,

emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of
features. Her manner was engaging.
They rushed out the door, grabbing anything and everything they could think of they might need.
There was no time to double-check to make sure they weren't leaving something important
behind. Everything was thrown into the car and they sped off. Thirty minutes later they were
safe and that was when it dawned on them that they had forgotten the most important thing of
all.
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground
knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt.
How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
She had been told time and time again that the most important steps were the first and the last.
It was something that she carried within her in everything she did, but then he showed up and
disrupted everything. He told her that she had it wrong. The first step wasn't the most important.
The last step wasn't the most important. It was the next step that was the most important.
It was difficult to explain to them how the diagnosis of certain death had actually given him life.
While everyone around him was in tears and upset, he actually felt more at ease. The doctor
said it would be less than a year. That gave him a year to live, something he'd failed to do with
his daily drudgery of a routine that had passed as life until then.