ext_80256 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
lucindathemaid.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2007-02-14 11:08 pm
lucindathemaid.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-02-14 11:08 pm
[February 14] [Original] Could Mean Everything
Title: Could Mean Everything
Day/Theme: February 14 / three aspects of one whole
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Three women of varying relationship statuses
Rating: PG
The Single
She grumps at the abundance of pink and the colored hearts that decorate every damn store she walks into. She wants to engage in shopping therapy, not be treated to a display celebrating the fact that someone out there’s getting laid.
She fumbles with the catalog she holds (handed to her at the door by a cheerful, red-and-white adorned employee), searching for a desired sale and trying to ignore the block of text at the top that reads “Offer ends February 14th!”
It’s six o’clock, her stomach’s rumbling, and she’d head to the food court if she wasn’t so afraid of being alone.
Her friends all have dates, and blowing money on some temporary amusements would be so much healthier for her than spending the evening cooped up in the house.
She may be single, and she may be singled out in a food court filled with couples.
It doesn’t mean she has to go there, and it doesn’t mean she can’t be single and a sales monger.
Thank God the shirt she wants is entirely sold out in pink.
-
The Taken
He’d promised her he’d take her to dinner after she gets off her shift at seven. She can’t wait; tomorrow’s their one month anniversary, and today being today… it’s hard for her to contain her excitement.
He’s perfect; at the very least, he’s perfect in comparison to her last ex-boyfriend. He’s a sweetie, he always calls, he likes to spend time with her, and he’s sexy to boot. The mere thought of him is enough to make her smile.
She’s still smiling when a young woman (all by herself, poor thing) walks into the store past her. Remembering that she has a job to do, she turns to her and says, “Welcome to Robe, would you like a catalog?”
The other woman takes the magazine from her outstretched hand, and the saleswoman nods, satisfied. A job well done. Now only fifty-nine minutes to go…
-
The Once-Taken Now-Single
She hopes no one notices that her mascara’s on extra thick today. At least her eyes are red, festive for the day.
She rings up a purchase, taps chipped nails on the keyboard by her computer, and asks for a credit card. The shopper digs through her purse in hunt of a wallet, looking disoriented. The woman behind the counter can’t help but feel pity, but then she reminds herself that she’ll need to take her now ex-boyfriend’s picture out from her own wallet.
Six months. Six months. Six months she’d spent in happiness, and that she’d thought he’d spent happily too. It was the worst time of the year to be the victim of a break-up; he should’ve known that and held back, if only for another day.
It’s enough to make her cry. But she can’t, she’s got to ask for her customer’s phone number.
Her eyes wander toward the entrance of the store, where a coworker of hers is handing out catalogs and grinning like a dope. As she should be, of course; this is a girl that, if you’ll let her, will tell you all of the virtues of her latest hubby (and proceed to sob once said hubby breaks up with her after a month or so of bliss).
But then, that could be jealousy on her part.
Her coworker has no way of knowing, after all, that the woman behind the counter with the extra thick mascara got dumped the day before Valentine’s Day.
Day/Theme: February 14 / three aspects of one whole
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Three women of varying relationship statuses
Rating: PG
The Single
She grumps at the abundance of pink and the colored hearts that decorate every damn store she walks into. She wants to engage in shopping therapy, not be treated to a display celebrating the fact that someone out there’s getting laid.
She fumbles with the catalog she holds (handed to her at the door by a cheerful, red-and-white adorned employee), searching for a desired sale and trying to ignore the block of text at the top that reads “Offer ends February 14th!”
It’s six o’clock, her stomach’s rumbling, and she’d head to the food court if she wasn’t so afraid of being alone.
Her friends all have dates, and blowing money on some temporary amusements would be so much healthier for her than spending the evening cooped up in the house.
She may be single, and she may be singled out in a food court filled with couples.
It doesn’t mean she has to go there, and it doesn’t mean she can’t be single and a sales monger.
Thank God the shirt she wants is entirely sold out in pink.
-
The Taken
He’d promised her he’d take her to dinner after she gets off her shift at seven. She can’t wait; tomorrow’s their one month anniversary, and today being today… it’s hard for her to contain her excitement.
He’s perfect; at the very least, he’s perfect in comparison to her last ex-boyfriend. He’s a sweetie, he always calls, he likes to spend time with her, and he’s sexy to boot. The mere thought of him is enough to make her smile.
She’s still smiling when a young woman (all by herself, poor thing) walks into the store past her. Remembering that she has a job to do, she turns to her and says, “Welcome to Robe, would you like a catalog?”
The other woman takes the magazine from her outstretched hand, and the saleswoman nods, satisfied. A job well done. Now only fifty-nine minutes to go…
-
The Once-Taken Now-Single
She hopes no one notices that her mascara’s on extra thick today. At least her eyes are red, festive for the day.
She rings up a purchase, taps chipped nails on the keyboard by her computer, and asks for a credit card. The shopper digs through her purse in hunt of a wallet, looking disoriented. The woman behind the counter can’t help but feel pity, but then she reminds herself that she’ll need to take her now ex-boyfriend’s picture out from her own wallet.
Six months. Six months. Six months she’d spent in happiness, and that she’d thought he’d spent happily too. It was the worst time of the year to be the victim of a break-up; he should’ve known that and held back, if only for another day.
It’s enough to make her cry. But she can’t, she’s got to ask for her customer’s phone number.
Her eyes wander toward the entrance of the store, where a coworker of hers is handing out catalogs and grinning like a dope. As she should be, of course; this is a girl that, if you’ll let her, will tell you all of the virtues of her latest hubby (and proceed to sob once said hubby breaks up with her after a month or so of bliss).
But then, that could be jealousy on her part.
Her coworker has no way of knowing, after all, that the woman behind the counter with the extra thick mascara got dumped the day before Valentine’s Day.