Happy Valentines Day, Beautiful.

Short Story - Happy Valentines Day, Beautiful.

I couldn't wait to see her. I missed her long red straight hair, that would flow into the wind. When she would jump into the bright sun, her beauty would shine as if the heavens couldn't wait for her. She has the most beautiful bright blue eyes. She would pull me in the exciting way she would always have.

I woke up early this morning at 5am and started on my breakfast. Thinking about seeing her made me have less sleep. I do count on having dreams of her, since she is the best thing I would ask for. I opened the fridge and took out apple juice, eggs, took out the bread, then frozen bacon out of the freezer. She never really liked the orange juice. I would always drink apple juice with eggs, bacon and then some toast every Valentines Day with her.

I started cooking the bacon into the pan and watched it sizzle for awhile. I got out the milk and a bowel to help make the eggs. I wasn't really good at cracking eggs, but I guess now for about eight years I have been getting the hang of it. I cracked them and they fell into the bowel, then I poured the milk. I got out the fork and started sturing the milk and eggs together. I looked down the kitchen and saw pictures of me and her.

Me and her looked happy as ever, and she looked as perfect as ever. I love her smile and the way she would laugh and cling to my arm. There's many things I would appreciate from her. Right now she's with some of her friends. The thought of her is what counts though. As long as she's happy and smiling, this old fourty-five year old man is happy. Me and her been together for twenty years since we both were twenty-five. I never had my hopes down with her, never. She was never a mistake and would never be. She's the best miracle I can ever ask for.

I sat there eating alone at the kitchen table. I wonder, is she having a good time with her friends? Maybe half her family is there as well. She's always good with people, she's a lot more of a people person. She's the most outgoing woman I've met. Because of that, I fell in love with her, and always had fun with her. I never really purposed yet, but I never believed in marriage either. I don't need a paper to tell me that she's mine forever.

After breakfast, I put my plate in the sink and rinsed it off. I started walking towards the bathroom to take a shower. She would always pick on me if I never rinsed out my plate. She found it disrespectful if I didn't help her out on the rinsing and left all the mess for her. She does think the job is for a woman, she does most of the cleaning. I do help her out, as a gentlemen I am. Even a job couldn't pull me down from being responsible. Me and her never had any kids, just each other. Not that we don't like the idea of having kids, but we just weren't ever lucky.

I smiled as I smoothed my fingers through my soapy hair. I loved how she would move her fingers through my dark black hair and look up into my hazel eyes. Then she would slowly press her lips against mine, then ended it with a giggle. She was always so delegate, but also very independent. She's so sweet to me. Me and her would rarely even fight. She's not like those other girls with the attention of being bipolar. There's times she would even hide her emotions, but I could tell when she was. She would always lock her fingers together, like she was praying herself on making sure she hides her feelings hard.

I would grab her hands and lock our fingers, "Baby, don't hide your feelings to hard. You can always tell me anything. I promise I won't judge you, we'll get through this." Then she would smile at me. When we talk, we held hands through it.

I finished showering and headed towards my room with the towel wrapped around my waist. I remembered, after I would take a shower, I'd walk around her naked. "Travis!" She would giggle and start pushing me in the bedroom, "The clothes are over here!"

I dried my hair with my towel and then throw the towel in the hamper. She hated the whole 'hang the towel back up after using it'. So she would make me put it in the hamper and hang up a different towel. I started putting on the boxers she bought for me, The Joker. For a sweet woman, she admires The Joker from Batman. She would even tried to convince me to become The Joker for halloween. What convinced me? She would cross her arms, and pout by puffing her cheeks. That is the honestly most adorable pout ever, I couldn't take it.

I got dressed in my tight black pants and then a regular black t-shirt. I looked into the bedroom mirror over our dressor and ruffled my hair and started blow drying it. This is her blow dryer, and I would attend on using it a lot. She doesn't mind of course, except times when she wants to use it. Me and her would even fight over it.

"Travis! I'm going to be late for work!" She would giggle and chase me.

She would be fine without the blow dryer actually. Her hair looks too perfect for it to get snappy over the heat against her hair. Well, she also uses a well good shampoo and conditioner, but still. I started to brush my hair and ruffle it. I'm fourty-five and I miss when I was young and I could flip my hair to the side. Not like I was emo or anything, I would never count on it. Even the fact I was with her, what's the point? I went to the bathroom and started hanging the towel. Then I went to go put on my shoes and socks. She was always obsessed over designed and long socks. She would buy new ones like every once a month. I would know she did because I do the laundry.

I sighed, "New socks again?" Then she would walk by with her evil giggling. I laughed, "You're so weird."

Then she would puff her cheeks in a pout, "Love meee!"

I started walking to the kitchen and grab a rose from the vace. She likes having flowers around our home, because she likes it looking peacful. So she would always make sure there would be new flowers if they would happen to die. She would get mad because the roses would die after a small amount of time. She does take over other flowers as well. I was never really an expert on flowers, so I wouldn't really care for the names. She would make me sit down and have a lesson with her on flowers. She would jump on my back and do her pouty puff face, so I couldn't reject. She would bring home, Anemone 'Galilee', Sun Flowers, and Bachelor's Button. Who named the poor plant Bachelor's Button? I used to make fun of it by calling it Bachelor's Bottom.

I grabbed my car keys and started heading out the house and to the car, after locking the front door of course. I got the car and started driving out of the drive way and out of the neighborhood. I wonder how she is doing. I bet she's baking many things. She would always like to bake and make many things. She was more of a cookie maker though. She would even try making home made ice cream and smoothies just for the both of us during weekends of no work. She makes the best smoothies. She would even try and teach me herself just incase. She does do a huge job of photography and then help a friend with a family restraunt. I work with the bank, but I get a very nice amount of money after a month. They do sometimes mess up my check though, so it get's me and her frustrated.

She always had a way to cheer me up. I never had anything else having to forget anything that has gotten wrong, until she came along. When it's her and I standing infront of each other, it's the only thing I see. I see all white around us, everything cleared out, then I just see her. I love holding her hands when we cuddle in bed together to fall asleep. Lay our foreheads together to kiss and say goodnight. Everything to me, was about her, and only her. That's what this whole thing is about. Her.

I came up to a road, then parked on the side of the sidewalk and got out of the car with the rose. I know every Valentines Day, she looks at me with the joy in her eyes when she sees me. I can see her wanting to tackle me to the ground and attack me with kiss. I started walking on the grass and on my way to see her. She always looks beautiful. She will always look beautiful to me.

I came up to the gravestone that had her name, with her date of living to the date of passing. I bent down and set the rose over her grave, replacing the dead rose. "Happy Valentines Day, Beautiful."

My Name Is Travis Graven, and I'm forty-five years old. My girlfriend, the love of my life, Gabriella Harvain died for about eight years, starting when she was thirty-seven years old as I was. Me and her were trying out for a child and it became wrong. The baby died, but she went along with it with the lost of the amount of blood. I was at work during the time. I was in a meeting when she was trying to call me, so I didn't answer her. After the meeting, her mother called me which is rarely. She told me the situation; Gabriella called her mother when I couldn't answer her call, and when her mother got there, it was too late.