“What’s this?” The Captain tossed his hat and coat by the door and picked up a folded pink paper from the table.
“It’s Valentine’s Day. Cupid left it for you.”
“What’s that smell?” He wrinkled his nose.
“Maybe Cupid was having a bad day.”
“It smells like gasoline.”
“Well if Cupid didn’t have to pump her own gas, it might smell like meatloaf.”
“We’re having meatloaf? Did you put the little heart made out of catsup on the top?”
“We don’t have any catsup. I was going to the store when I ran out of gas. At the gas station the note fell out of my pocket and blew under a pickup truck. When I bent down to get it back, I spilled gas on it.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad day. Why don’t we go out?”
“Because we’re having meatloaf. It’s your favorite.”
“But we don’t have any catsup. What did you put on top?”
“That’s all we had that was red.”
“Maybe I should read the note.”
“Well, I was kind of annoyed by the time I finished it.”
“I see.” He tossed the note in a bowl on the table and touched it with the lighter we keep handy for starting the grill.
Hungry flames and the smell of burning gas flared and then receded.
He grinned. “Hottest love note I ever got. Let’s go eat.”
“Can we take your car?”
“Okay,” he put his arm around me and grinned as he guided me toward the door.
“But we’ll have to stop for gas.”