Valentines Day (finished)

February 3rd

Matt slipped out at 11:37 to go run and get some chocolates for Stephanie. That was on February 2nd. Now, it was February 3rd.

*

Stephanie was having a bad day, but then again, a man who fell down Mount Everest would probably be having a better day than she was. At least that metaphorical man had a chance to view the top of the world before falling to a painful decline; Steph didn't even get that lucky.

All in all, it was the little things that added up. Like waking up without her husband's arms around her(a note on the fridge was saying that he was out looking for a job), accidentally sleeping in, not having breakfast made when she walked out of the bedroom(which wasn't anything she expected, but it didn't help her mood), having a car that wouldn't start for twelve minutes straight so she was late to work, seeing that her Starbucks that she usually drove through if she needed an extra something was congested beyond belief, and the doors to her job closing and locking her out milliseconds before she reached them.

No, today wasn't a good day. Nor did work try to change any of that. It began with another arduous stack of papers plopped on her desk. Stephanie stared at the papers. The papers stared back. They seemed to be at an interpass, and, since she lacked a box of matches, the papers won this battle. Stephanie began her daily drudge through the paperwork. Just filling out sheets, cross-checking, cross-referencing, crossing before saying a prayer for strength, and working hard to not fall asleep on the job.

*

It could be said that Matthew was also having a bad day, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. Unlike Stephanie who was visited by the 'Bad Luck Fairy' last night, Matthew's bad luck was entirely of his own doing. Nothing, like, say, a previous obligation, made him get up at zero dark thirty in the morning and drive away. He could've waited, but he chose not to; and was having a bad time of it as a result.

MatPat went back to pressing his face against the glass then stood and looked at the man behind the counter. "You're sure you don't have any."

The man shook his head.

Matt groaned and dragged his hands over his eyes. How the heck did every store that could have chocolates in a thirty mile radius suddenly run out of caramel filled centers? He slumped into a chair next to the window by the entrance of the small one-room chocolate shop. What was he gonna tell Stephanie?

"But," the man began, "we do have another shop downtown a ways, who I know got an order in this morning."

Matthew stood up excitedly. "Really? Can you get me the directions?"

*

Stephanie had a working relationship with the fan. It cooled her off, it stayed put thanks to duct-tape, and it didn't blow away her papers. The fan was small, but powerful, and was clamped to the side wall of her office space. It was aimed at her head and really only pushed her hair back a little bit when it was pointing directly on her; otherwise it just cooled her off. It was supposed to spin back and forth, but with a bit of duct-tape she could hold down the button to keep it still. But, like all working relationships, things can go awry if one party disagrees. Thusly, this had to be the day that the fan betrayed her.

It was shortly after everyone had filed out to go to the cafeteria. Most people liked to go early, but Stephanie always packed a lunch, so she could spend a bit more time on her work. So, once the last person was safely out of earshot, the fan broke forth its fury. The duct-tape holding it in place snapped and the fan began turning, making all five hundred sheets of paper scatter across the floor.

Stephanie tried to grab at the papers, but her efforts were futile. Soon enough all of the papers were in a new location. Her first attempts at wrangling them up didn't work. Everytime she got them in even close to a similar position, the fan just blew them away. So, Steph turned off the fan and proceed to clean up the papers in the inhumanely hot work environment. Finally, she had them all in a large pile. She could organize them and then-