This is my Valentines Story. Any suggestions to improve it will be appreciated.

I stared at the headlines. It was something unheard of, good news. Well, good news for people who love bad news. Only thing occurring really on the front page was a story about how someone ran back inside for his friend but ended up burning inside with him. God, local news is so shit sometimes. To be honest, this coffee tastes like it's 2 parts coffee powder, 1 part coco powder mixed with minimum water and milk; then again the coco powder gives it some-what a weird delightful taste. Guess this is how peanut butter jelly was invented.

I hadn't shaved in a few days but then again, Amy apparently loves rugged men. I was lucky that I got out of work, I was unlucky I had seen a psychiatrist today concerning a few unwanted feelings. I decided to ditch the tie and car at my apartment, walk to the near-by cafe and ring my girlfriend up. We needed to talk. I knew she'd have a break soon and I knew she'd be able to talk her supervisor into allowing a few extra minutes.

She turned up with a smile. Today she wore her dirty blonde hair up in a pony tail. Most of the time it was down though; then again I don't usually see her in her work attire. She wore a brown jacket, a white blouse underneath with her name tag (which I always thought was weird because not only she works in a call centre but it displays her first and second name "Amy Simister", guess it's so the supervisor knows who she is), had black trousers and black high heel shoes. She hated them but it was part of the formal wear at work they had to subscribe to. I'd never personally understood it but perhaps when they show people around, they're so shallow that they can tell how professional someone is based on their attire? Although some days she's got away with slip-ons.

I greeted Amy as she sat down across me on a wooden and metallic chair. She returned the greeting. I finished off my coffee. The waitress then came over but Amy didn't want anything, I on the other hand wanted more coffee. We begun by discussing what had been happening lately. I tried to steer it away from me telling her I had been to the psychiatrist today. Instead, I tried to ask her more details about her day. About the friend who she thinks stole her pen, about the muffin she ate on the way to work, why she was in a rush, why she woke up late, so on. The coffee came and we talked a little more about things. At first, I felt I would never tell her. Then my mind settled on it, I'd tell her no matter what. Even if I had to run after her in front of a car to catch her, just as long she knew. It was for the best she knew.

Then conversation steered to me. How I'd been, how was my morning, so on. Finally, she asked about my lack of tie, not being in work, wanting to speak to her and so on. So I told her straight everything:
"Lately, I've been...Having problems. I've been feeling a little depressed for a while and recently I've been having panic attacks. I first asked a doctor who forwarded me to a psychiatrist." I could see her getting closer to the edge of her seat as I talked, she was tensing up as though I was going to say I'm a psychopath. Believe me when I say I felt completely insane when the psychiatrist was telling this to me. "I saw him today and he said that I have panic disorder and depression. I'm sorry. We talked and I...We managed to trace the stress back to the day when I signed up to my current job". I could tell Amy was working it out and she would not take it well.

"So you're saying it started when you met me?". She got it. I had met her in a bar after I got accepted for the job. What she failed to realise was it wasn't because of her and me meeting her on the same day was some-what a coincidence. "No, no, no, it's not like that. It's my job that's got me stressed out, not you. You've really filled a hole in my life" I tried to reassure her but at this point I could tell she wasn't listening and didn't care of excuses. "So you're saying I stress you out to the point of depression?! Huh?!" she said, getting up. I was about to say something when she shouted at me "you and me are fucking through, you fucking nut case. Let me know when you have your head fucking straight, you'll do a lot better without me apparently". She then stormed out, everyone in the café's eyes directed at her and then at me. I clenched my teeth as I placed the change on the counter for the coffee and slowly made my way out of the café, my knuckles white with one or two slightly grown nails digging into my palm. I breathed deeply and slowly, making sure not to panic. I apologised to the person behind the counter and a few other patrons to the café.

As soon as I leant the door open, I darted out into the snow. My shoes crunching as I ran out onto the pavement. I could see her on the other side of the road. I tried to run over the road so I can talk to her but as soon as my two feet left the curb, they slid themselves off the floor. I then landed on my back with a nasty headache. I knew I couldn't catch her now, all I could do was pick up the pieces. I dragged myself to the pavement and onto my arse, checked the back of my head and saw some blood. "Bah, it'll heal" I assured myself. I climbed to my feet and then walked down the pavement, thinking of the good times. How much she really did change my view of life and made the last year and a half the best time in my life (as far as I could recall anyway). I came to a bridge where I looked out upon the waters. It was cold but surprisingly, the water wasn't frozen besides the edges a little. I tried to contact her later but she kept putting down the phone, she refused to see me and even got herself a new boyfriend within the week. I came back to the same bridge about a week later at night with only one question to ask:

"Was it for the best she left?"

Edit: Improve it a tiny bit. 19/2/09.

Also, here's a good song:

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