It was late one fall night, and I was just sitting on the couch alone. I had not been in class earlier in the day, because I was not feeling well. You were at school and had to work afterwards. You said you were going to stop by after work. I told you not too, it was too late on a Friday night. You refused to listen and insisted on coming over anyways. I told you I was sick and would probably be asleep. You said you would just stop by to drop off my assignments. I told you it was now the weekend and I could get them from you later. You still refused to listen to me. I told you that I could go one day without you. You told me you couldn’t go one day without me. That was when I finally gave in. I told you, you could come over and see me for a little while. You said you loved me and hung up the phone. I went back to bed so I wouldn’t be dead on my feet when you got here. You texted me right before you left telling me you were on your way. I didn’t text you back because I knew you were in your car and you would just text me back while you were driving. I heard the squeal of the tires through the open window. I could feel the sudden feeling of emptiness and the sudden urge to cry. I didn’t know what came over me. I felt the soft vibration of my phone. You told me I love yo…
It was the tires of your car I heard. The sudden emptiness was the knowing that you had left me; the sudden knowing that if I kept insisting on you not coming over you would still be here. When the investigators told me you were hit by a drunk driver it almost killed me. It hurt even worse when they gave me the remaining contents that were in the car, a container that once held soup from my favorite restaurant, a bouquet of roses, and a small black velvet box. I told you I could go one day without you, a lifetime is impossible.