More sad than spoooky but it's a corker...
A couple of months ago I broke up with my boyfriend of 20 months. The guy in question was my first love, so it hit me pretty hard. The night it happened, I decided I would go to see my friend Joe, who was in on the situation and also pretty fucking good at cheering me up. So onto the night bus I hopped, to arrive sobbing on his doorstep at 2am. He cracked open the Stoli and we drank the entire bottle, until I was too pissed to care any more or, you know, form coherent sentences. By 4am we stumbled upstairs to bed.

(Now you'll need a little backstory here. For my 16th birthday one of my gifts was a small hollow heart made out of moulded leather, with a flap in the back so you could keep small change, or whatever, inside. It came with a clip and I kept it on my favourite bag, clipped to the strap. It was this same bag that I took to my friend's house.)

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover I ever had (crying too much gives me a headache, weirdly) and Joe still zonked out beside me. From my prone position on the bed I surveyed my surroundings, and my eyes fixed onto my bag on the floor. Next to it, having both split in half, and its clasp crushed, was the little heart. It had obviously broken some time in the night, probably when one of us put an oafish drunken foot wrong, but I certainly don't remember doing it.

And that was the night my heart broke.

(Cry? the absurdity of it actually made me laugh like a loon, which must have seemed very odd to Joe who was woken up by my crazed giggling and enquired what was funny, to be met with the reply "My heart's broken" choked out between guffaws. My mother cried when I told her though. Soft Sod.)

Length? Nothing spectacular, why do you think we broke up ;)
(Annor, Tue 13 Feb 2007, 22:10, Reply)