"A day is just a day is just a day," she said over coffee. "Valentine's Day is for Hallmark and hypoglycemics." He made her pinky swear that it was true, that she was true, that she was his, and he was hers. "Oh, get off it," she said. "I hate pronouns,” dismissing him with the flick of a wrist.
That night over cocktails, he slipped her a card.
“To you and you,” the card read. “And to me and me. And if I’m lucky, to you and me.”
“Now we’re talking,” she said, lifting her pinky. “Bring on the candy.”