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I flew from Denver to see my girlfriend in San Francisco a few months ago, and she was as cold and unappreciative as ever. She likes coffee, you know, so I'd stuffed my bag full of fancy Godiva coffee to give to her. And she'd always hated that my hair was long, so I cut it -- for the first time in half a year. It had been almost a month since I had seen her last, and I was, at that point, so starved for physical affection that I could burst.

But she didn't even show up at the airport. I had to take a taxi cab to her apartment.

She had forgotten that I was coming in that day.

I stayed with her anyway, though. I was there for three days. She never once said "thanks" -- not even for the coffee. She left me to myself quite a bit. Sometime's she'd leave early in the morning and I'd wake up in her bed alone. I laid there in that cold bed of hers once --wondering who else had been there a week prior-- and it occured to me that I could not figure out why we were still together. It ate at me, like an acid devouring my soul. And it was at exactly 8:56AM, February 10th, that I decided to end our relationship.

To end it by convincing her that I had died.

It was crazy --and depraved!-- but I can't help but look back on it with a certain amount of perverse relish.

Frankly, I was glad to leave her. She was decent enough to take me to the airport this time. She was truly beautiful that day. And for a second, I doubted. I wondered if leaving her really was a good idea. It was a transient thought. I knew how empty she was. She was truly wrong for me. I kissed her goodbye and got on my plane.

When I landed, I headed for my friend Scott's house. I got him to call her. On the plane, I had written out what I wanted him to say. He dialed the number and clicked the speakerphone on.


SCOTT: Is this Miss Winters?
AMY: Yes, it is.. may I ask who's calling?
SCOTT: This is Frank Wilson, Delta Airlines..
AMY: Okay..
SCOTT: Well, uh, I've never had to do this before, but... ma'am, we at Delta regret to inform you that Delta flight 45 had... some trouble landing... and... well, there were no survivors. A, uh, Mister Ken Hughes left this phone number to contact in case of... we're so very sorry..
*sob*
*click*

I wonder what happened to her.




The world is a magnificently diverse place, and it's possible that this, indeed, was a true story. It just didn't happen to me. I love my girlfriend more than anything else, and she bears no resemblance to the girl described in my story. It's just an idea I had while I was hanging out clothes today.

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