Night.

It’s been three hours…

And the clock is still ticking…

Then something, somewhere, someone – broke the silence.

24 Dec 2006
Christmas Eve

It’s been exactly 1,095 days since we first kissed, and 365 days since we got engaged; then a single phone call at 9:59:36pm shattered our love. No, it shattered my love.

I prepared our dinner, I waited. Two hours and fifty minutes passed and he didn’t show up; he was always early, never late. I rang his cell phone sixteen times, but it kept going to his voicemail. I spent seven dollars and eighty four cents talking to the Vodafone voicemail robot. Something told me it wasn’t right.

My intuition never failed me, and it didn’t fail me this time. The call was from the police. They informed me that that evening, he was on the way back to his car from a flower shop when a drunken truck driver crashed into him on the sidewalk. Three other people had minor injuries but he, at seven minutes to nine that evening in the emergency ward, he let go of his life, his family, his friends, his fiancé – he left me.

Twenty-two red roses drenched in his blood – at the murder scene.