There were times.

There was time.

And now there is eternity.

Her hands have gone beyond burned. Angry red calluses have built up over once delicate hands. Hands so delicate they could fold the thinest of pastries. Deft hands that could pinch crusts so well no filling ever spilled out. Soft hands that used to soothe his brow and brush away the strands of hair that would fall into his eyes. Now her hands were rough and hard. The acid had eaten away at most of her flesh and it was only through rote memory that she remembered how to hold the bowl over his head.

But there were times.