Opening A Short Story

As he walked into her office she looked up from her paperwork.
  "you don't look well"
  "Ummm...I have a broken heart" he said
She returned to the business at hand and cracked open the syringe.
  "well this should hurt less than that"
Having extracted the liquid from the vile, she was now busy removing air bubbles. It was clear from the grim precision of her activities that this was nearing the one hundredth (if not the three hundredth) time she had done this today. And quite possibly this was the millionth time she was expecting to hear someone tell her that they didn't like needles.
  Even so, she broke from the routine of preparation and looked towards him.
  "What happened?"
  "Sorry?" he said breaking momentarily from self-absorption.
  "Why is your heart broken?"
  He brightened at the realisation that he had made his way through her professional routine and dragged her into his misery. Or at least into an interest in his misery.
Realising that his eyebrows had risen with his rising mood, he quickly collected himself and lowered his chin in compensation.