“It’s not really a gifting holiday,” she said, looking down at the orange and black wrapped box.
“I know. I just wanted to get you something.” I smiled a bit too toothily. It was our third date. Time for our masks, so to speak, to slip.
She gave a tight smile and pulled one edge of the ribbon. Her face fell as she looked inside and quickly shut the box again.
“I gave you my heart,” I explained.
“That’s supposed to be a metaphor,” she said queasily. I asked for the check. It wasn’t going to work out after all.

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