Sofia and Vincent's Unforgettable Night

"Sophia," he said softly as he stared at me with genuine warmth emanating from his eyes. "You look great."

"Vincent," I replied, the warmth equally present in my voice, "You look like shit."

"Well thanks," he responded with mock irritation, raising his hands in feigned frustration as though he were going to hit me but then thought better of it and decided not to continue pretending to be mad at me. "Did you miss me?" he asked.

"Hell yeah," I responded.

"Well, sit down here," Vincent gestured to a seat beside him, "and let's talk." He started pulling out napkins one by one as though they were ticker tapes announcing someone's victory. "I have something really important to tell you," he continued, "but first, let's get refreshed."

"Okay," I agreed, "So what is this important thing?"

At this point, I noticed that there was a strange formatting error with random intermittent coloring and other various distractions interrupting the text – odd symbols and repeated phrases.

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To fix the aforementioned issue, I rewrote the problematic section for you:

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Sophia ran both her hands through her thick blonde hair while letting out an exasperated sigh; she grabbed her wine glass - which she always filled halfway with vodka - and put it to her lips. After taking a long swig, she turned around quickly on her stool so her knees were touching Vincent's leg while her heels remained firmly planted on the ground below her; she put one hand on his knee while resting her elbow on top of his stool next to him before speaking:

"If you're not going to help me figure this out then why don't you just leave?"

"What? Who says I'm not going to help you?" I countered. "Why would you think that way? We're best friends! Of course I'll help you! You're probably going through some midlife crisis or something like that!"

My heart sank as soon as those words left his mouth because they made so much sense; they sounded exactly like something that someone would say when they thought their friend might be dying or going crazy or maybe both! But before I could respond or even think too much about what he had just said, Vincent continued talking without missing a beat: "That's probably what's got you thinking about your ex-boyfriend!" When he said that last sentence, his voice rose higher than usual because he had become excited about being right about whatever diagnosis he thought I might have been experiencing – this time regarding my personal life rather than physical health – when we hadn't talked in years! He slammed his eyes shut hard and nodded fervently along with himself while saying "I know exactly what happened!" Then, after looking at me for a moment longer than necessary (it seemed), he leaned forward slightly so our foreheads touched briefly before pulling back quickly so we were facing each other again: "These things happen!" Then, after leaning back into his seat again, staring down at his drink rather than looking at me in order to give us some privacy during our conversation (or maybe so no one would hear us), Vincent began talking again: "You met someone new!" As soon as those words left his mouth I immediately started thinking about how right he was; how embarrassing! How humiliating! How utterly mortifying! It wasn't only that I couldn't remember feeling such intense love since before my ex-boyfriend died... It wasn't only that I wasn't sure if anybody else would make my heart race like it did when Vincent used to hold my hand... It wasn't only that whenever Vincent left some room open for speculation about our relationship everyone always assumed we were dating... It wasn't only any one particular thing... But instead it was everything combined together into one big ball of horrible feelings that made me want to die! No matter how many times I tried telling myself otherwise – No matter how many times I told myself it was okay – No matter how many times I told myself God didn't make mistakes – No matter how many times I told myself it wasn't true... None of those things worked because