Ah, it was good to write something again.
The mailbox was full of bills, and devoid of love letters; another Valentine's day gone without so much as a heart-shaped card or box of fudge. Ah well Michael told himself, it's not like you sent one yourself. Michael flipped shut the wobbly mailbox and made his way back inside, where he would take solace from the gentle, glowing light of the afternoon and feel comforted by the familiar dankness of his musty bedroom. It was a small, modest home. Modest, because it didn't really have all that much to boast about. The neighbourhood was pleasant enough, sure, but it was placed right next to a round-a-bout that saw many vechicles come past on their way to and from work. He did his best to keep his garden nice. Or rather, he did his best to keep the bed of dirt lining the edge of property nice, and this simply entailed clearing away the chip-packets and other bits of rubbish the kids dropped on the way to school. It wasn't an unattractive house, it was just, in the most extreame case, bland.
Michael lifted his sachel from his shoulder and carelessly tossed it onto the living-room sofa, thereafter launching himself onto the sofa too, his face burying into the thick, comfy cushion. It felt cool on his face, and it smelt dusty, something that seemed to comfort the young man. "Mmmm, sleep," he murmured to himself. He thought he would just let his eyelids slowly close shut, and that soon he would be having a pleasant afternoon nap after a day at the office. The sharp jerking sound of a handbrake coming from outside told him otherwise. The opening of a car door, the tapping of high heels along the concrete path leading up to the front door, yep, Chrissie was home.
"Hi there, hun!" said a striking woman, light spilling in around her breifly before she closed the door again and moved inside. Her hair was long, black and frizzled, and she wore a smart two piece business suit. A rather nice get-up for someone who sat in an office for seven hours, shuffling papers around with a generous one hour lunch break in between. As Chrissie walked through the open kitchen-dining-living room, she moved with the speed of a colt, a small draft stirring behind her. Michael looked up wearily through his blonde, bedraggled hair, and mumbled something that sounded like "hello."
"Guess what?" said Chrissie, literaly looking down her nose at him.
"Mmmmmm?"
"You got a card today."
For a moment, a bizarre feeling of excitement bolied forth from Michael's stomach, but he knew better than to sit bolt upright yet. Instead, he settled for half-interestedly raising his eyebrows. "Nope. Can't have," Michael assured her. "I already checked the box a few minutes ago, and there was nothing."
"Mmmm," Chrissie hummed, pulling a card from out of her jacket pocket. "But I checked it this morning. You know? The time you don't dare to venture out of bed?"
Now was the time to sit upright, Michael decided. He had a great look of concern. concern, of course, for his privacy.
"You know, just because I let you flat here, doesn't mean you can rummage through any of my mail and keep it for your self and-" a slight look of confusion then graced Michael's face, and he paused for a moment. "Why are you interested in my mail?"
"Oh, well..." she began, "well... I just wanted to see your reaction. In the three years of living here, I've never seen you get one Valentine."
Michael opened his mouth as though to say something, but no words came out. It was as though he had something quite important or meaningful to say, but realised it would do nothing for the situation. Instead, he sat there, and looked blank.
Chrissie fell silent also, but didn't look nearly as dazed as Michael. "... Would you like to see the card?" she ventured.
"Oh!" he said. "Yes, of course." Chrissie handed him the card, and moved his sachel off the sofa so that she may sit next to him. Michael took a moment to study the card before opening it. It was red and heart shaped, and the rough edges suggested to him that it was probably made by whoever sent it. He opened it up, and carefuly read a short verse that was inside.
"On this very special day, know that this is true; that on this very special day..." Michael stopped reading there, his lips mouthing the last few words, until they too stopped.
Chrissie's brow furrowed.
"Well, what does the rest say?" she asked him.
Michael wasn't responding though, his attention focused solely on the contents of the card. "Michael?"
A few moments passed before he spoke.
"Would you like to come for a ride with me?" he asked, seeming to be only half-present.
"A ride? To where?" Chrissie asked.
"Dargovile." he replied, with the air of someone
"Dargovile!" Chrissie exclaimed. "That's a day's drive away!"
"I know," he replied, still staring blankly into no where.
"Why do you want to go to Dargovile, Michael?"
"I..." Michael trailed off. It looked as though he wouldn't finish his sentence. Well, to Chrissie, it looked like he had gone into a completely vegetated state and would never speak again. But then he finally managed: "I... I think I'm... going to have a very good fifteenth of February."
Please, tell me if you bothered to read it. I know there are spelling errors there, but my eyes are burning so... I'l just leave 'em. KTHXBAI sweatdrop
o c e a n filled rolled 10 100-sided dice:
9, 88, 98, 85, 8, 15, 62, 6, 35, 11
Total: 417 (10-1000)
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