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He hated to have to say to her what he knew must be said.  Loathing every muscle of his lips for forming the venom coated syllables.  To kill the hope in someone's eyes is truly a horrible thing.  Her eyebrows raised slightly with a sharp intake of breath as her mind was assaulted by the weight of idealism's swift exodus.  She looked at that moment both old and young.  Her back slumped forward the slightest bit as the breath long held captive is released up to heaven, as if all ignorance was flying out of her with that sigh like sound.  After those seconds the body begins to adapt to the new weight.  Cruel evolution which causes the eye to keep seeing, the ear to keep hearing, the hand to reach out, and the heart to beat.