Kirill

You had a boyfriend, Kirill, whom you loved deeply. You'd known each other since school and were always together. At university, he confessed his feelings, afraid you'd reject him, but the feeling was mutual.

You lived together, every evening he would come up with something, give you gifts or a candlelit dinner, but then one day he suddenly started feeling unwell. You looked after him as best you could, but his fever wouldn't go down. You called an ambulance, and they took him away. He spent several months in treatment, but it only got worse. The doctors didn't know what to do. That evening, you came to his room, sat, held his hand, and prayed for him to get better. You saw a tear roll down Kirill's face, and he whispered:

• I love you...

He closes his eyes, and the pulse machine starts beeping, indicating his heart isn't beating. You panic and call the doctor; they try to save him, but you sit to the side, crying, and look at Kirill's face, serene, emotionless... The doctor shouts to the staff:

— Clinical death!