The sound of paper. The feeling of it. The tip of his thumb. It tickled. Fifty pages gone, seventy-eight pages gone, two-hundred-forty-nine gone. “Ow! Skipped too many.”

Ring.

“TOMORROW?! How did I forget?!”

Shhhhhh.

“Sorry.” Tomorrow it was, her birthday.

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2 km

“Ow… goodbye ‘how to understand body language 101.’” He kissed the book, and out the door he went. Running he was, to where? He didn’t know. Twenty-one minutes go by. Heavy breathing, palms against his knees. Water? Oh boy, so thirsty and without water. Two kilometers ran without a single drop.

90C

The daily task had rewarded him 10C, he had just completed it. One thing he’s not good at, picking gifts. What does she want? He went through the catalog. Food? No. Clothing? Perhaps. Hat? No. Dress? Perhaps. 200C, no. 100C, no. 90C, perhaps. An all-black dress. Countless dark, elegant roses stitched all-over. He knows what they’ll say, “is she at a funeral?” But he liked it. Ah! He swore it wasn’t a phase!