Shallow Breath

9:57 pm: A chill runs down my spine, I shiver and cross my arms to keep the coldness out.

2:37 am: My phone vibrates. Her picture pops up on my screen. I slide my thumb across my phone to answer. Her voice raspy. I could tell she was crying just before she pushed the call button.

8:55 am: My last snooze goes off. I groggily open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling, wondering why I have to be an adult at age twenty-three. Light slivers its way across my room while the birds croak out their songs.

7:24 pm: I pull into the parking lot of her apartment complex. I have her code memorized and let myself into the building. Her door is unlocked. She sits on her couch. Cross legged. Her back to the door. “Hey….you okay? You haven’t responded to any of my texts.” The apartment is silent except the low buzzing of the of the next door neighbor’s music.

2:38 am: “Heyyy…what’s going on?” I say in a hushed, mellow voice.
“I hate life. I fricking hate it.”
“Well, I mean life isn’t always the easiest to love.” I know it has something to do with him.
“We just had a huge fight. I think we’re gonna break up.”
“Okay. Start from the beginning.”

3:09 pm: I finally get on my break. I put a dollar in the vending machine and push B4 for the Cheetohs. A quarter falls down. I read my text.

3:13 am: “I know it’s so cliché to say, but the right guy will come around when the time is right. You’re so young. But honestly breakups suck.” My phone buzzes in my ear from a notification.

12:46 pm: My phone vibrates with one new text. Her name pops up in green.

11:01 am: I punch in at work with a cup of coffee in my hand, black. It steams fresh, the smell lingers up to my nose. “Good morning, all” I say, cheerfully fake, and sit down in my seat, ready as one can ever be to take on the day.

3:26 pm: I step out for a cigarette, and reply to her text. She doesn’t respond. A car honks its horn in the distance.

3:41 am: I scroll through Facebook. Reading the random posts of my friends. His name pops up from a picture he is tagged in by one of his friends. It’s him along with some kids I don’t recognize. His hand on one of his buddies shoulders, and his teeth, white with care, are brimming wide with a hint of fake. I tap on his name to go to his page, and press the delete button.

7:26 pm: I touch her bare shoulder, which is covered in a yellow spaghetti strap tank top. Her skin is cold. Her breath short and barely there. Pills are scattered on the table in many colors. I grab her and look in her glazed eyes. I dial 911.

3:18 am: “Okay…you’re right. It just hurts ya know?”
“Yes. I do know. Remember when I went through my breakup not too long ago?”
“Yeah.”
“I was a mess, right? But I’m still here. It’s going to take a while for those pieces to get glued back together. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as you keep gluing. But don’t stop because someone gets in your way. If they want to help, great. But don’t let your guard down just because they look like they wanna help. Some people haven’t worked hard a day in their life, and have no idea how to apply that glue. Next thing you know, and you’re in a sticky mess. Glue all over. And your pieces aren’t getting fixed right.”
“Your glue analogy is weird.”
“I know….you sound tired.”
“Psh, I guess I should get some rest. It’s going to be a long day at work tomorrow.”
“Same. But I’m glad you called. I wouldn’t miss a call from you for the world. You’re important to me. Remember that.”
“Thanks…well, goodnight.”

10:03 pm: She took her last shallow breath at 9:57 pm.