just to hold your hand...
The note said: as the girl with the unperfect face, the raggy, unstylish jeans, and the most interesting brown eyes the detective had ever seen: lay dying before him.
"Who do you think she wrote that for?" He asked another officer, waiting for an ambulance to come. Though he doubted it would get here in time to save her.
The other officer shrugged. "Does it matter?"
The detective sighed thinking, that's probably why she'd overdosed. Nothing ever really mattered. He reached down and took her hand. He felt the pulse weaken, then fade away. But he swears he saw her smile.