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This is not a woman's handwriting... And, unless she's gay... Which I guess she could be. I don't know... But, unless she's gay, this might be about her... getting dumped by him... Whoever "him" is...
I'm look downstream, wondering if maybe another page has drifted close to the bank. The sun has already set, and the grey sky barely casts enough light to see by, but I don't spot anything paper-like from where I'm standing...
I walk beside the creek rereading the crumpled page in my hand and occasionally scanning the bank for signs of white. After a few minutes I spot a wad of white floating in a backwash pool. It turns out to be two pages scrunched together.