Valentine’s Day, hah, she thought. Whose bright idea was that? She fumed, but despite herself, she handled the man’s dozen long-stem red roses wit... care. ‘This is the worst holiday ever,’ she muttered, reaching for a bag. Every year it came like some sort of giant mocking nightmare, and every year it left her aching with loneliness and the unshakeable knowledge that no one would ever care for her, no one would ever want to be her Valentine. Wearily, she cashed out the boy, silently cursing. When people came home to turn on air-conditioners, personal computers, and the myriad of other toys that modern America runs on, it became too much, and the dimness yielded to complete and utter darkness. Gayle shivered, not from the water droplets still on her shoulder and the dampness in her hair. She was nyctophobic to a certain degree and immediately opened the bathroom door to try to glean what little light she could from the windows of the front room. The darkness offered no comfort and. More

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