“John, you know I got ask about that.” Bill pointed to John’s white truck, which had a “no hearts” symbol painted drippily upon its door.

“It’s my truck,” John replied. “I can paint it how I want.”

“Granted, yes, but you had to know that people were gonna ask about it, especially seeing as today is Valentine’s Day.” Bill lolled his head to look at the paint, its bright red in the process of drying and baking to a dull rust. “Someone asks me why one of my contractors is heartless, I gotta have a reason to give ‘em.”

“Tell ‘em it’s John’s truck, and he painted it how he wanted.”

“Dammit, John, will you stop it?” Bill cried. “Now it’s a simple question, and you refusing to answer is just making it a ‘thing.’ So what is it? You against sappy commercialization? You Catholic and a devotee of the saint?”

“Left my girlfriend,” John said. “Found a bunch of hearty cards in her stuff, and they wasn’t from me.”

“There, was that so tough?” said Bill. “Now, I’m sorry for your circumstance, but let’s get that washed off. Folks are gonna be bringing that up all day otherwise.”

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