AN: I got the idea for the poem after taking my state testing…two hours early. I had nothing to do, but doodle on the scratchpaper…so I wrote the poem, then the story to go with it….this is a real tearjerker…character death..sorry!
Shawn couldn't believe the fear that had hit him in that one moment. He had just been sitting alone in a restaurant booth, thinking of how he was going to dress for his date with Jules that night. He hadn't told anyone, but he had thought of proposing to his beloved Juliet O'Hara, when he took her to Mario's that night. Suddenly, his phone buzzed, and an unrecognizable caller ID popped up. Normally, Shawn would ignore a call like this, but something told him that he needed to answer it.
"This is Shawn Spencer, head psychic of the SBPD, and co-owner of Psych. Who is this?"
An urgent voice replied, "I'm sorry to inform you Mr. Spencer that your friend, Juliet O'Hara was just found in your office, beaten and shot. She had suffered severe injuries, and I'm sorry to say, she will not be able to live through this. We need you to get here right away…to say your goodbyes. I'm very sorry. Please Hurry…She's been asking for you."
"Oh…my…gosh…Ok…tell her I'm on my way….Tell her…..tell her I love her. I'll be right there." Shawn hung up, and sank into a chair. "Oh Jules!"
He rose quickly and hopped on his bike. Shawn revved his engine and drove insanely, while muttering about how sorry he was. He reached a traffic jam and cursed silently about the cars backed up. After sitting for a few moments, he got fed up, jumped off of his bike, and began to run. Many drivers honked or yelled at him. But, Shawn ignored them, only thinking of his dying, Juliet.
Shawn didn't even realize the mile and a half that he had run to get to the Psych office. He burst through the door with only one thing in mind. As he barged through, he ran into an EMS worker who was walking away, carrying a stretcher.
"Hey buddy, you can't go in there!" The man stopped him.
"No! You don't understand!" Shawn begged. "That—her—in there…that is my girlfriend!"
The man's eyes turned glossy, and full of pity. "Gosh…I'm sorry man….you're just one minute too late…she just died. She was asking for you the whole time. She wanted you to know that she really loved you…sorry…"
"Just one minute too late!?" Shawn mumbled the words as he stumbled back through the office, to where she lay on the ground. He pulled the blanket from her body, and a tear rolled across his cheek. "Just one minute too late?" He fell to his knees, sobbing.
Just one minute too late
Oh the pain of knowing
That you were just one minute too late
Just one minute too late
Too late to save your love
Too late to save her life
60 seconds, and you might have had bliss
But you were just one minute too late
Now instead you hold her head,
Your lips longing for one last kiss
But Alas, you were just one minute too late
Now living your life
With no one to care, except to rub it in
That you were just one minute to late