The drive to Madison only took 70 minutes, but it felt like hours.

Her feet rustled in the garbage that littered the bottom of Dan’s Prius, greasy McDonald’s bags and bits of stale Kwik Trip hotdog buns mixed with the vague stench of old fishing bait and murky lake water that melted in an old cooler in the trunk. The scents mingled in the warm air closed off from the February grey outside and made her head ache worse.

“Look,” he said, trying to draw her out of her silence. “A brown Subaru.”

She glanced and nodded, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of appearing interested. A year ago, when they started dating and before they were engaged, she would have been charmed by his buoyant attitude and random remarks.

“Are you being a grumpy hedgehog?” Dan asked. This was what he always said when she was in a bad mood, and it used to make her smile. Today she didn’t respond.

Her earbuds blocked the possibility of conversation as they made their way from their little college town to the city to meet friends for lunch. She requested they go to her favorite restaurant on State Street, and it was there they met Margaret and Hannah. She ate little. Her fish and artichoke seemed sour in her mouth today, so she sipped her Afghan iced tea as Dan turned on his charismatic charm to chatter about the pointlessness of weddings and the importance of concealed carry permits.

“Let’s go to A Room of One’s Own,” she interrupted; Margaret’s face was turning purple. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

“A bookstore? Don’t you have enough books already?”

“I’d like to go, too.” Margaret came to the rescue.

“Fine. Ten minutes,” Dan said.

Ten minutes was all she needed to drop $50 on feminist theory and new issues of Bitch and Ms. As they were leaving, she gestured toward a Valentine’s Day card hand-painted with kittens.

“Look,” she said. “Isn’t it cute?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “I hate Valentine’s Day,” he said.

Laura Becherer is a graduate student in the English Department at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire.

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