another valentine’s day

In her defense, she didn’t know who he was, for six months. In her defense, they never had sex or even kissed. In her defense, she was lonely, and he was the most charming man she’d ever met.

Of course, none of that mattered, it wasn’t interesting. Not even her name was deemed fit to print. In the eyes of the public she would forever be a local artist, a beneficiary.

When the story broke, he didn’t need to say anything. Everything just… stopped. She played her part, refusing interviews, and he made some sort of vague apology, the hurt but supportive wife at his side.

They were supposed to spend that Valentine’s Day together. She told herself it will only be dinner, no matter what. Part of her thought she dodged a bullet, but another part of her…

She’d resigned to spend another Valentine’s Day alone, when his letter arrived. How about that dinner, it said. I miss you, it said. I think I love you, it said. There was no signature or return address.

As she squeezed herself into the dress he sent over, she realized she wasn’t the same girl he fell for last year:  now she was a size four.

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One Response to “another valentine’s day”

  1. boo Says:

    haha

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