I ran and ran through the empty morning streets with no planned route, instead relying on my knowledge of the lay of the land—and Poodle Maps—to make sure I traced something vaguely resembling a circle, so I could eventually reach my point of origin.

While I saw very few cars on the streets and practically no pedestrians, I did meet a couple kindred souls, braving through the icy tundra that was the city's outskirts on a winter morning all in pursuit of the ever-elusive fitness or a more toned body.

The first I passed by was a big, muscled, bald guy. He was wearing running clothes with only a thin jacket on top, somehow having evaded hypothermia despite his sore lack of insulation. He gave me a curt nod as we crossed paths, which I returned, perhaps a bit too late for him to see it.

The second was what I could only guess was a woman, as heavily clothed as she (?) was. Thick pants and an even thicker anorak–more than mine–with the hood up, which only let me see glimpses of a tanned, soft face, since although we ran in the same direction for a while, we were on opposite sidewalks.

They gave me a big wave, moving their whole arm in a quarter circle, and I waved back, though not as boisterously.

I was glad none of the two tried to talk to me, since I would've had to stop the music on my phone to listen to them.

Actually, maybe that's why they opted for non-verbal communication? I mean, they're probably listening to music, too.

And so, with all those things to keep me occupied, time passed rather swiftly, and soon I was back in front of my house. Checking Missions, I'd apparently ran about 4 miles.

As I entered the house, an enticingly delicious smell reached my nose, and I followed it to the kitchen's table, where I was greeted by an assortment of buttered toasts, cupcakes and muffins, both plain and with blueberry, and a small tower of syrup-coated pancakes, surrounded by a mug of orange juice, a larger one filled with milk, and even a cup of tea, which I hadn't had in... ages.

Around the tray full of delicious goodies were jams of all colors and flavors, the sugar bowl, and the orange juice and milk cartons.

"Oh wow..." My thoughts escaped through my lips in sighed words.

The sight and smell were enough make my mouth water like a broken dam. My belly growled, and I realized I was famished from not having eaten anything in half a day, and even then only a salad and some cheese. The long run I'd just gone on hadn't helped, either.

And so, a moment later I was sitting on a chair, wolfing down the luxurious array of food.

It tasted so good I wanted to cry. How long had it been since I'd had a home-cooked breakfast like this? And made by my wife no less...

Ah. I was actually crying now. 

I kept shovelling food into my mouth even as I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin, enjoying the thoroughly sweetened buffet. I was unable to eat everything before I felt full to the point of risking a gut explosion, unfortunately.

Then, as I sat slumped in my chair holding my heavy gut, I realized that I still hadn't thanked the person that had made all this for me.

Alice! I didn't even say good morning to her! She must be thinking I'm a jerk... and she'd be right. Fuck. Asshole move, Ryan.

In a desperate attempt to make up for my blunder, at least to an extent, I walked over to the living room, where I guessed Alice would be and, stopping at the doorway, knocked on the wooden frame.

"You there?" I asked, thankfully managing to sound much more calm than I felt, my words coming out almost casual thanks to Eloquence.

"...yeah," she answered from behind the couch after a moment, her voice so weak it barely reached my ears. It was my cue to tell her what I'd come here to say, but when I jogged my brain to find the words I was looking for, I drew a blank. And so, I decided to just say the first things that came to mind, trusting Eloquence to steer me along.

It was not a good idea.

"Good. Oh and um, don't worry, I won't enter the living room or anything. I just wanted to, uh, say thanks. And sorry. For the delicious breakfast you prepared. It was incredible."

Wait.

"Ah, I meant thanks for the breakfast, not sorry, that wouldn't make any sense, unless I dropped it on the floor or something. The sorry was for not telling you earlier... I'll shut up now before I mess it up even more."

I heard a quiet giggle from the sofa, tinkling and melodic in a way that made me giddy like a child, and decided that all the embarrassment I'd just put myself through was worth it, a hundred times over, if it meant making Alice happy for even a moment.

Seeing as she didn't respond even after the room fell back into silence, I decided to move the conversation forwards myself.

"...you made way too much, though. I'm not complaining, but it felt like a waste just leaving two pancakes and half a toast to be thrown away. At least the cupcakes can be put away."

This time, I did receive a response. Just not one I expected.

"Don't worry, I expected that, I just wanted to go all out since I hadn't cooked for you in... forever. From now on I'll make more reasonable quantities. Oh, and don't worry. I'll eat whatever was left over later."

Wait, did she just say...

""from now on"? You mean, you want to make this a habit? Not that I'm complaining. I'd take your delicious pancakes over some dry, burnt toast any day."

I heard another small giggle, which made my body feel lighter. Then she answered.

"I'm glad. And yes, I want to try cooking for us from now on, since the alternative would be just sitting around at home doing nothing, anyways. Obviously, that doesn't only include breakfast. How would you feel about some spaghetti carbonara for lunch, since it's Friday and your shift ends early?"

Her words were a bit of a shock, but it only took a moment for it to melt into a happy warmth that radiated from my chest and left me feeling all tingly. Eating home-cooked food. It was probably not a big deal for most people, but for me... it was a sign. Things were changing. Improving. 

Things would never fully go back to how they were before, but I didn't really want that to happen. It would be unnatural. A loss as big as the one we had gone through changed people, be it for the better of for the worse. But now it seemed like, even with those changes, we could still mend the rift that had formed between us, bit by bit.

I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"I would love to eat your carbonara, Alice. Are you sure you're up to the task, though? Your skills might have gotten rusty," I teased, something I would've been absolutely grilled over if I did a few days ago, but which I felt I was more or less safe to do now that we were on much better terms.

"Hey! Oh well, think what you want. I'll shut you up when you taste my godlike cooking for yourself."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her childlike sulking, and slunk away before my laughter got me in more trouble. My 7:30 alarm beeped as I reached my room, and I turned it off, thankful for the reminder.

Actually, let's change it to 6:45. That way I'll have ample time to go running tomorrow.

After doing so, I entered the bathroom, relieved myself and took a quick shower, then looked at myself in the mirror and decided to finally check out the High-quality Comb.

Looking at the image of it on my Inventory, it was pretty much what I expected. It looked hand-crafted, its teeth fine and thin, probably made of tortoise shell or some other material that was now banned. I decided to look at its description, just in case.

[High Quality Comb: Useful for combing and styling hair, and efficient at untangling it. Hairstyles done with this comb will be less prone to being ruffled or disheveled, allowing them to stay in their ideal form for longer.]

The description was pretty much what I'd expected, and I didn't even bother reading it again as I took the comb out of the Inventory. I examined it for a moment, confirming that it looked just like it did in the Inventory, then used it to tame my wet bed-hair. As I finished, I nodded to myself in satisfaction. It didn't look that good at the moment, but I knew it would once it dried up.

 

---

 

"See you in a few hours, Alice," I said as I walked towards the door to the garage. It was a good thing we had one, else our car would become a popsicle on cold days like these.

"Have a good day, honey," she replied, her affectionate form of adress making my heart skip a beat.

Why does that make me so happy? We're married, so what she said is pretty much standard, but... I can't stop the stupid grin growing on my face.

And I didn't want to.

---------

I stood in front of AmaZone's HQ, the building I worked at. Having parked my car nearby, I had quickly reached the entrance, and only as I was about to go inside did I stop, hesitant to go inside given the previous day's... fiasco, with Melissa. It wasn't very likely I'd run into her on the way—it was still 8:07, much earlier than my usual time of arrival, since I'd specifically come extra early to make sure that didn't happen—but once she arrived at the office, talking to her would be awkward at best.

Metaphorically slapping my cheeks, I urged myself to go inside.

Come on, Ryan. Get a move on. Dilly-dallying will help no one; it's not like you can just skip work. Plus, the longer you stay planted here like an idiot, the bigger the chance she'll run into you. Better to at least meet her while already in work mode.

Nodding to myself, I took a deep breath and walked inside.

As I did, another pair of clacking steps appeared just beside me, shadowing mine, sounding as hurried as my own.

I froze.

The steps shadowing mine did, too.

Looking to my left, almost in slow motion, I confirmed, to my utmost surprise and dismay, that a pair of large, hazel eyes framed in locks of auburn hair were looking right back at me, their expression most likely mirroring my own. Something was different about her face, today—perhaps it was her makeup. It seemed a bit heavier, perhaps applied less skillfully, and was especially thick under her eyes.

My mouth opened before my brain could process what it was doing.

"Hey there, Melissa. Didn't expect to run into you like this two days in a row! Fate must be playing some tricks on us, huh? Well, at least there won't be anyone to tease us when we arrive, this time." 

My words sounded calm and composed, despite my frazzled mind. I did not stutter nor slur my speech, coming up with each word just as the previous one left my lips to form an unbroken stream.

What the hell. Who even classified Eloquence as Common? This Skill is so fucking broken.

"Yeah... that must be it, haha." Melissa replied, clearly feeling awkward, as I moved to open the door for her. I waved her through like a gentleman—or a mysoginist, depending on how you looked at it—then stepped through myself, subconsciously timing my steps to the click-clack of her heels on the tiled floor.

I soon caught up to her, falling in step besides her, making a point of not looking towards her. My whole body was tense, my movements rigid and robot-like.

"Good morning, Ryan!" one of the receptionists greeted me, and I stopped to wave at her, smiling. 

"Morning, Carol. Beth not here yet?"

"Nah, she always cuts it close on Fridays. Seriously, if not for me..." she shook her head, trailing off, and I chuckled. 

"Well, gotta go. See you around!" I said, choosing to disengage as I saw Melissa calling the elevator.

"Bye, Ryan!" she replied, beaming at me before she returned her focus to her computer monitor.

I caught up to Melissa just as the elevator door opened, and only as I was stepping into the lift did l realize how much easier I could've made things for myself had I just waited for the next one.

Damn... way to shoot myself in the foot, huh?

It was an awkward ride up the elevator. No words were exchanged between the two of us, the tension hanging so thick in the air you could cut it with a blunt knife.

The numbers on the electronic display ticked up excruciatingly slowly, so much so I could swear the elevator had to be defective and going slower than it should. The background music felt estrident in my ears, and I could feel every drop of sweat rolling down my skin.

Alright, maybe I was being a tad overdramatic. It was a bit uncomfortable, but not that bad. I just had far too much time to think of purple prise while sitting still in that stuffy metal box.

 In any case, the elevator door eventually opened before me, and it took all of my self control to not rush out into the hallway. Instead, I walked in fast but measured steps, keeping my composure as I made for my office.

Clack, clack, clack.

Melissa, too, power-walked beside me, perhaps having had the same idea in mind. Maybe she had even arrived earlier on purpose to avoid me, thinking about it.

Wouldn't that be ironic? For us to both end up running into one another because we tried to avoid the other person? That's probably not it, though. There could be countless other reasons, many of them more likely. Probably.

Melissa and I were the first of our little section—of which I was the manager—to arrive, as expected, and our paths finally separated as she walked over to her desk, while I made for my office.

As I reached my door, however, I remembered the parting words I'd left behind the previous day. 

"I'll greet you with a smile, like always."

A promise I had yet to fulfill.

Turning around, my eyes met Melissa's—she'd apparently been looking at my back—and I modulated my mouth into a smile. It felt more natural than it should, perhaps because it was. What could you do but smile at such an ironic situation, after all?

"Good morning, Melissa," I told her, leaning on Eloquence, "Let's give it our all today too, alright?"

She looked at me incredulously for a moment before giving a bitter smile of her own, shaking her head as she muttered something I didn't quite catch. That was natural, only idiots muttered loud enough for others to hear them half a room away.

With that, I entered my office and opened my computer. It wasn't until I had already submerged myself into my work, typing away at some boring report, that others began trickling in, the last arriving a few minutes before 8:30. I waved absentmindedly at the ones I saw enter, greeting them as I did when I couldn't spare them much attention, and the hours passed peacefully, if uneventfully, not quite flying by but not moving at a crawl, either.

Soon, a glance at the lower-right corner of the monitor informed me of my shift ending in a bare couple of minutes, and I began to close everything up, saving what had to be saved and smiling contentedly at the, once more, much diminished amount of piled-up work remaining from the bleak days I was now leaving behind, of doing little but brooding pathetically over my bad luck without trying to change it.

My smile persisted as I stood up and left my office. I had been in a bad place, for a very long time, but everything was taking a turn for the better now. 

Touching wood.

I rapped my knuckles on the wooden door to my office, to the confusion of my colleagues.

Anyways, it had taken the intervention of some supernatural, all-powerful entity no less, but having it try to force me down a path, to shove its ideals down my throat, had been like a wake-up call, a gag reflex, unpleasant but enough to remind me l still had something to fight for.

Or someone, rather.

I quickly walked out of my team's workspace, noting Melissa's absence. She must've rushed out as soon as the clock hit two.

I had always subconsciously strayed away from any behaviour akin to that of a womanizer or playboy, refusing women's invitations even after I had fallen out of speaking terms with my wife, but only thanks to the System had I realized why, the unconscious adversity to the idea having sent sparks flying from the friction of the System's forceful ways rubbing me the wrong way, turning into a blaze of defiance that illuminated the reason behind it all.

I called the elevator.

 

It was simple. I loved her, and treasured our bond far too much for me to set my eyes on anybody else.

Soon, I was outside and walking to my car. Thoughts of the past occupied my mind for the whole duration of my drive home, and before I knew it I was opening the front door and stepping inside.

The smell that greeted me was pleasant but not overpowering, most likely belonging to the carbonara that Alice had told me she was going to make. Smiling widely, I took a deep breath and said something I had wanted to say for the longest time.

"Honey, I'm home."