Trish she has two phones she is that busy.

Carmen is coughing blood. She is in a lot of pain. I know because I am in a lot of pain. I smell the wet pavement under me. My face is pressed so close, oil and dirt and grit and grime. I crawl to her, my sweetheart. The first girl I ever loved. The first girl I ever gave my heart to. When I crawl my body feels worse if that’s even possible. It’s like crawling over coal being boiled in lava with a side order of broken glass and sand paper times 1000. I get to her and her eyes open and I see how happy she is to see me. It makes me feel worse.

“…..Why…are you…I called….you….got my message?” I cough more blood.

“I didn’t……I didn’t….” She gasps.

“I called……I left you a message. Cancel case orange…….god that burns…….GOD!” I yell.

“…No battery……..oh….Shane…..I am so sorry…..” She cries.

“No…..I am sorry…….” I say.

She does this what she always, she echoes my thoughts. She takes the blame off of me. I would cry if I could. But I can’t.

They met once.

 Outside some club some night. There was rain. And Trish and I we where looking for a cab. On the corner hand in hand strands of wet hair in our eyes. She had her white raincoat on. And I said something to her to the effect of her being my angel. Telling those absorptive yet reflective eyes that she made me happy and that I felt loved by her. Her smile was warm and her beauty to me was very different from Carmen. I bared these truths to her and she leaned in closer to me and didn’t press it further. She didn’t try to get me to say the words, just those eyes beaming down at me in surprise. I leaned up and kissed her and heard this loud woman yell….

“McCutcheon! Is that you?”

We turn my angel and I, and we faced the source of the yell.

“Carmen!”