Ah shit. Fuck. Fuck! Is that today? Fuck. God, fuck: err, go to M&S on your lunch break and try and get some sort of pink-dyed prosecco thing? See if the florist in the train station has any reasonable-looking flowers left? Fuck you said you’d be home tonig— you told your mate you’d go to his birthday drinks! Is there time to go? Is there time to pinch a quick pint before you get back? It’s only 6PM. There is definitely time for two pints before you get back. Say hello. Be friendly. Buy one more bunch of flowers than you normally would. Get some Lindt from Tesco Metro. How much romance do they want? You walked in on them shitting last week. You’re not getting that much romance when you’ve seen the intimate, delicate, straining face they make when they shit. No. Big box of chocolates and a semi-ironic card. Bit of over-the-trouser stuff before bed but nothing too mental as you’re up early for the gym tomorrow. Done.
YOU’VE NEITHER WON OR LOST VALENTINE’S DAY AND YOU’LL BE FUCKING LUCKY IF YOU MAKE IT TO YEAR 3 MATE IF I’M BEING FULLY HONEST
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