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"Jean. Jean it's Couf. I don't know if you're actually gone or if you're huddling in the corner listening to this stupid message like the little wimp you are, but I'm kind of hoping it's the former because it'd make things a whole lot embarrassing, probably for the both of us. I just…okay, I'm going to come right out and say it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You were the best thing to ever happen in my life and I fucking blew it. I know I can't make any excuses and I'm a shitfaced scumbag cunt and you deserve someone ten times the man I am, but I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since day one; I swear I'm not just pulling your leg. I can't even remember what I did in my life before you. I mean, I know I did something because I was alive, obviously, but…shit sorry I don't know where I was going with that. I'm not good with words, Jean, I'm not a poetic genius like you so I know I'm rambling. And it's not fair either, that I'm cursed like this because I have all these thoughts in my head right now that I can't spit out of my mouth, and nothing I say is coming out right. All I really want to say is that I'm sorry I royally fucked things up and I know you don't have a single reason to forgive me, but I really need to hear your voice right now, Jean Prouvaire. Your heart is so big, my little poet, and that's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you, so just please, if you can find just a sliver in that heart of yours to speak to me again, I'd very much apprecia-,"
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The voice of the answering machine echoed throughout the entire room, stripped bare and completely empty of any furniture or possessions besides the solitary phone in the center of the vacancy.