Work Text:
In the mirror, she was lovely. In the town, she would be loved. There was a song on her lips that she could not stop humming, and it reminded her of train rides home. It was enough to bring a swing to her step as she reached over her dresser for a pair of pearls. It would match the cuff-links for her blazer.
For the first time in… god, how long has it been? She hasn’t been on a date since Magnolia took her out to that new shop. The sharp pain of the earring piercing her ear reaffirmed the length of time. It had been entirely too long since Dove’s last date, since the last time she allowed herself to doll up. And as she quickly put in the matching earring, she came to the conclusion that she would enjoy herself.
For tonight, she would be going out with a lovely person from her office. She didn’t actually know too much about her, but her friends seemed delighted when she brought up the invitation.
“Dove, you can't be alone forever!”
“You have to put yourself back out there!”
“Wouldn’t it be fun to just go out? It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just enjoy a free dinner!”
While it sounded like their coworker had been building up her courage and preparing to ask for a short while, Dove really couldn't think of any time that they interacted. It was flattering to hear of her interests, of course, but there wasn't much that she could reciprocate without even knowing the person. But… it didn’t have to be anything serious. And admittedly, she did love the routine of a date night. The invitations, the flowers, the accessories and excitement of a shared outing. She had picked up a sweet bouquet of striped carnations for the night. A kindness. No other flowers and no other sentiments. Hopefully, the woman wouldn't mind terribly. It was, after all, just a dinner.
It'd be fun.
-
Her date spoke gently, with soft words and wide eyes. A lovely pink painting her cheeks as she stumbled over her words, hands shaky around the bouquet Dove gave her at the beginning of the night. All night, her gaze would drop from Dove back to the flowers, carefully cradling the petals. Her interest really was flattering, and Dove could admit that it was endearing to have her gift so well received. Dove smiles simply, and the woman melts. She knows then that this will be the only time they go out.
Gentle, soft, and careful. A woman too sweet to be savory. The night continues, and the conversation never dips into intriguing topics. She is perfectly courteous, and when the bill comes, Dove grasps her hands and wishes her well.
“How kind it was of you to spend your evening with me, but I think that we had best stick to a professional relationship.” The woman’s face drops, but all Dove can think about is how much she hopes that this doesn’t turn into a public ordeal. She doesn’t have to wonder for long. Her date nods and tries for a smile. Perhaps this was to be expected from such a gentle date.
“Ah, I’m sure you’re right. This evening was wonderful,” Her voice is painfully earnest, as though she hopes that Dove would change her mind, and Dove’s smile tightens. She doesn’t know if her date would recognize such an expression. Either way, they part ways at the station, and Dove takes in a long breath as she relishes the silence.
The night was fun, she supposes. Nothing like what she’s used to, but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. It was good to get out, and going out on dates was a good way to ensure that she didn’t just spend her days at her office and her home, and back again. It did also allow that woman to gather her courage and learn to make the first move. It was a mutually enlightening night, at least, she hoped it was.
Ah well, maybe next time she’ll accept a night with a more engaging partner. It would be nice to have something interesting to talk about over dinner again. She spends the trip home thinking about unfinished conversations.
-
The next morning, she wakes with her alarms and begins the process of further removing the accessories of her night. She removes her pearl earrings first, the earrings that were hidden away in her bed tousled hair. Which reminds her to check the suit jacket she wore to ensure that she put away the cuff-links properly. She didn’t want to lose those ones to the wash. The apartment was quiet as she thought back to her night, carefully removing any remaining indication that it happened at all.
Dove watches her reflection as she brushes out her hair, a word stuck on her lips. It’s been a while, indeed.
She looks at her dresser, and it looks barren in the morning light. Perhaps she ought to buy herself some flowers? The thought brings a complicated sort of feeling to mind, and she does her best to ignore it.
In fact, there were some more pressing things on her itinerary. She needed to check the mail, clean up the kitchen from yesterday’s mess, and go over the work that was sent home with her for review. A bothersome way to spend a day, but at least she might be able to get ahead of the curve with some of these cases before Monday. Dove paused.
She was getting ahead of herself. Work had to wait. The mail needed to be done first, and the kitchen needed to be second. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get to either of them before her day was finished.
The important things first, Dove, she reminded herself as she put on her slippers. As was typical for this time of year, the morning air was biting and crisp. She pulled her robes closer and moved a little faster as she approached her mailbox. Why didn’t she decide to do this later when it was warmer? It’s not like the mail that was delivered would have changed between the hours, she bemoans internally. The cold weather begins to settle in her bones the instant that she stops moving. The metal was terribly freezing and Dove shakes the sensation out of her hand as she opens up a small stack of plain letters and bills, one of which slips from the bundle onto the ground. Just her luck.
Dove’s knees pop on the way down and as she reaches for the letter, she is immediately struck by the difference in paper. This was no advertisement or commercial billing. She flips it over so that she might see who the sender is or where such a letter would be from, and is greeted with no stamp or return address. Just her name, written gracefully in a sharp script. Nothing else, but there doesn't need to be.
She places the other pieces of mail under her arm and gently brushes over the handwriting. Today of all days?
The entire world comes to a complete stop, and Dove stops with it.