In which, she's led on a scavenger hunt to share a special moment with her Neal.
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Her day had been relatively mundane. It wasn't that anything necessarily bad had occurred, but nothing notable. She doesn't disliked these sort of grey days, they bring with them a certain sense of comfort in their routine. Yet, within the humdrum of her schedule, she always looks forward to seeing Neal.
Neal has lived down the street from her for the duration of her time in Minnesota. His family took up residence in the house next to the neighborhood playground - with a nice tall wooden fence. She thought it large and foreboding when her family first moved to Roseau. Of course, that may have been because she was against their moving all together and assumed everything in Minnesota was drab and cold.
She grew up with the child prodigy of a hockey player near enough to his age. To everyone else who knew him by his exceptional hockey ability, she preferred to just call him Neal - or Nealy poo, if she was feeling particularly like a tease. He was just the boy down the street she'd school in a game of street hockey on a lazy Saturday. And the boy she'd drink his mother's sour lemonade with while rating the unique ways other kids go down the playground slide.
Even after he returned from the Olympics, he was just Neal. He was still her Neal - just with a little extra bling. He hadn't changed to her. She was still the future Mrs. Broten, just as she'd hoped. He made sure to tell her that night he got back while they drank lemonade. He held her hand, his head on her shoulder, relishing the semblance of silence filled with the soft squeaking of the porch swing. He'd looked down at her hand, stating simply she'd make a great Mrs. Neal Broten one day.
Thus, when she'd returned from her workday, she was ready to see him. She'd spent months without him as he trained for the Olympics, but she couldn't go a 7 hour workday without almost dying. As she walked in to her home, dropping her keys on the table beside the door, and hanging her bag on the hook, she finds a note taped to the wall.
The handwriting she quickly places as her lover's. Scraggly letters are scrawled across the paper. They make carefully formed words that only she can very quickly read.
Y/n, I'll try to keep this short: I know you're probably tired, but I was hoping you could run a few errands for me to a few specific places. I'm supposed to pick up something at the place we first met, but I'm not going to have time. Could you grab it for me, darling? Thank you!
Love, Neal
P.s. I was going to try to rhyme, but we both know I'm not that great with words.
He knows she has that golden heart. That despite her tiredness she will jump at the opportunity to help him. He also knows her smart brain and just as he suspected, she knows exactly what place he is referring to. He knows at some point she'll wonder why he is being so cryptic - why he didn't name the place outright - but that could be a question for once she finished the little errand.
