Valentine’s Day: A Short Story

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1 p.m.: 

This Valentine’s Day, I find myself sitting at my desk, staring into the distance – although “distance” should be referred to by its proper name – Grant. We’ve been together for almost three months. I’ve never caught Grant staring back at me, yet I oftentimes feel as though someone’s eyes are on me. Yesterday, he asked me if he could cook dinner for me tonight. He told me he would come to my house and cook my favorite meal. Of course, I said yes.  

3 p.m.: 

“I’m heading out, I’ll see you later, okay?” I looked up at Grant. I gave him the key to my apartment and let him know he was welcome to start preparing dinner whenever he wanted since I had to work late tonight. I wasn’t looking forward to staying late – not only because of the normal reasons one hates to stay late, but also because Sam would be staying late as well. That guy gives me the creeps.  

5 p.m.: 

Still dreadfully engrossed in my work and trying to ignore the creepy advances of Sam – who has not once, but 12 times (yes, I kept track) asked me on a date tonight, to which I politely declined – who begrudgingly packed up his work and left.  

7 p.m.: 

I get a text from Grant on my way home, “Can’t wait to see you!” it reads. I pull into the parking garage and make my way to my apartment. I open the door to dim lights, candles, and rose petals strewn on the floor. I didn’t expect Grant to go to all this trouble. I follow the trail of petals to the kitchen table. Grant is nowhere to be found. I sit at the table and take a quick bite of my food. I look up as I hear footsteps coming down the hall. 

“Hello Sophie,” Sam says; he grins.  

“Where is Grant?” I cautiously get up from the table, I start to feel dizzy. 

“No nice to see you? I see. Grant is… around,” he walks closer toward me; my vision is getting hazy. I don’t like this; I begin to back up and search out of the corner of my eye for something to defend myself with.  

“What did you do to Grant?” I slowly reach for a kitchen knife; I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and my hands are getting clammy. 

“Oh, don’t worry. He won’t bother us,” he grins bigger and reaches out to grab me. With the knife in my hand I slip under his outstretched arms and run towards the hallway; I trip but catch myself. Sam grabs at the back of my shirt but I pull away. My stomach begins cramping and I can barely see; my vision is blacking out. I can hear Grant trying to call for help. Sam is chasing me down the hallway – I reach the bedroom door; it’s locked. I can hear Grant behind it. Sam grabs me as I reach to open the door.  

I wake up before I find out what happens. 

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