"It's not funny." He groaned.

It was February 14th. Scara slammed the car door with a scowl, arms crossing over his chest like a sulking teenager. You’d just picked him up from the coffee shop, where his so-called “date” decided not to show.

Now that both your plans had crashed and burned, you drove to a nearby bar in hopes of lifting his mood. Though, honestly? You weren’t sure it would work.