On the morning of Valentine's Day, I listened to my friend rant about her break-up for the sixth time (yes, I counted), and then I ranted to her about my perpetual single status for the second time (yes, I counted that as well.)
But then in the afternoon, I visited a cafe with an amazing raspberry cream puffs; a batch had just come out of the oven, and the chocolate glaze on top was still dripping. I bought a dozen right away and then pretended an admirer gave them to me so I wouldn't feel guilty about eating all of those cream puffs.
I ate one cream puff after another in the school library, sipping iced hot chocolate in between, and wrote the editorial for the next issue while Taylor Swift crooned in my ears.