Kayla was gone.  He didn’t want to accept it.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  They were supposed to get married, have children, buy a house, and all those things you do to “settle down.”  But now she’s gone.

They were going to her mother’s house, and he didn’t see why he needed to go.  He was driving, and they got into an argument.  Out of nowhere, the car in front of them stopped suddenly.  He swerved to the right, and they crashed hard into the metal rails on the bridge.  He couldn’t move, and he watched the blood run down her beautiful face.  Now she was gone, and it was his fault.  It was all his fault.

Sometimes at night, he would reach over where she should be sleeping, and it would startle him that she wasn’t there.  Then he would remember that she would never be there again.  When he misses her so much, that he can’t take it, he goes out.  He drinks, and he meets women, attractive women.  And those nights when he reaches over in bed, Kayla’s there.  Her name might be Angela, Erica, or Lynne, he doesn’t remember most of them, because in his mind it’s always  Kayla.  Sometimes he feels terrible for all these women, because they think that they mean something to him.  But they don’t.  The only one who ever meant anything to him was Kayla.  But Kayla was gone.  And it was his fault.