Valentine’s Leftovers

We all had one, a teddy bear, beautiful just like the one who gave it to me. We all cherished the encased shape of cotton, with the illusion it physically holds love. Then we all had that day the love inside the bear turned to anger, the memories became nightmares. We all had to rid of it, but it's always hard. Because you need the memories like nicotine. You need the love, even if it's buried deep in hate. We all had one, and one day we all didn't.

She called me, that night, asking if we could talk. I was busy, with what I'll never remember. Her dad found her the next morning, her wrists slit and her hanging from a half-collapsed shower curtain pole, footprints and bloody fingerprints showing that she hadn't really meant it, but her blood was too slippery for her to get a grip on either floor or sink. She died frightened and alone, and all I had to do to stop it was talk to her, put aside whatever I had been doing at the time. I could have saved her. . .