Happy Valentine's Day!

A festive quote and a festive picture from our illustrator, Maria Morris - with a couple who boasts perhaps the most dramatic relationship story - William Joyce and Anna Houston.

"Sighing, Joyce screwed the wick in the lamp, leaving a barely flickering light. For some reason, I didn't want to get up, drag myself to my place. But to fall asleep right in the chair, here and now, with your feet on the table - very much. It was rumbling outside the window – it was raining, lightning was drawing the sky. The weather here always deteriorated suddenly – and Joyce finally decided not to go anywhere.

He'll probably regret it in the morning, but... his eyes were closing by themselves, and Joyce did not resist, only the Colt, out of long-standing habit, shifted it more comfortably, under his arm.

The rain was pounding furiously on the walls, roof and windows–well, so much the better. No one would want to hang out in such a downpour and look for him, Joyce, attention for whatever purpose.

"The working day is over," he muttered, pulling his hat over his eyes.

Well, he was wrong there.

Someone still needed it - with it already in the deep darkness of the night.

Someone was hesitating on the threshold for several minutes - Joyce perfectly heard footsteps, at first fast, then sharply slowed down, and fumbling with the door handle. They tried to close the door carefully, but the wind still heartily slammed the sash against the wall, tearing it out of the hands of a gawking guest, brought the smell of rain and cold humidity inside. The downpour has subsided, but the wind – not a drop.

Joyce covered the colt lying on the table with his palm and twisted the wick in the lamp harder. The light increased – and the guest, taken by surprise, froze.

A guest. In a light light raincoat, from which water runs in streams, with dark curls carelessly scattered around a pale face; standing, crumpling a drooping wet hat in her hands and nervously fingering the handle of the bag – and how familiar everything is, to the last gesture...!

- Anna?! What the hell...? Joyce asked in amazement, putting away his weapon.

"You're sleeping at work again," Anna sighed. "I asked where I could find the sheriff, and three out of five townspeople sent me to the station, not to your house."… How familiar it is.

- What are you doing here, and let me repeat the question – what the hell? What if I had fired? Joyce got up, walked around the table, and sat on the edge of the countertop.

- You don't shoot at random, - she put the bag at her feet and straightened up wearily – it seems that the burden was heavy. – I remember that.

"A lot could have changed," Joyce chuckled, "since then, which you have information about. Why did you come, Anna?

- I thought that…

Now she'll say – I didn't say enough, you didn't listen, Joyce thought wistfully. My chest ached horribly. Anna looked confused, tired – wet, pale, and her eyes were burning like after a fever, her curls were heavy from the water and drooped, there were disturbing shadows under her eyes. She was like a rose, lush and festive, but torn by rain and wind–infrequent, but still dazzling.

- I thought, - she continued, took a breath, and, hesitating for a moment, gave out the unexpected: – That I was wrong, Will. And I forgot to tell you about it.

- And for this...?

- yes! That's why I took the damn train and drove the damn miles," she threw her hat on the floor and clasped her fingers in the lock. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes shone even brighter, alarmingly and dangerously. – Are you satisfied? I was wrong. Forgive me... if you can.

"Damn it," Joyce muttered softly, confused.…

- what? – Anna jumped up.

- Nothing. I think I misheard, or are you...?

- What else! He misheard. I said I'm sorry. If you can. Will that do?

It was already dangerous to pull any further–the unfortunate one was unhappy, but Anna was perfectly able to find the strength to go to war from anywhere... however, Joyce was a little mistaken here - she did not make any noise, but simply sat on a stool by the door, gently rocking the bag with the toe of her shoe, and stared at her hands clasped in her lap.

"Anyway, I'm not going to turn you out in this weather," he chuckled a little.

- Is the rest negotiable? – Anna raised her head and smiled so warmly that she would melt a stone with this smile.

- Discussed, - he nodded. I thought to myself – what a fool.

Well, let it be. He definitely can't do anything more stupid than this idea of getting a job as the sheriff of San Albino. It seems. "

(c) E. Godvirdson, "Everyday Life of San Albino"

Take care of your beloved ones! Appreciate each other, love each other, and be happy!