A love story | Story time

It’s late Thursday night and you had a long day at work. It’s 40 degrees outside and your air con is barely counteracting the heat produced by the stove top reheating last night’s pasta. You’re hot and sticky and drinking more water than a fish with the unforgiving heat.

You push aside the mound of research material on your desk so that you can eat the unsatisfying pasta while you continue to work. You have a presentation due tomorrow and it’s only half finished.

Your late work day turns into an even later evening and you are exhausted by the time you finish typing. You close down Facebook and happily head towards your bed. You open the door, expecting to see your unmade bed and a pile of pillows. Instead, shock spreads over you and you are momentarily stopped in the door way, breath caught in your chest.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve had a bad day as you stand there and take in the beauty of it. And you can’t help but whisper ‘I love you’ as you make your way to the side of the bed. It doesn’t matter that you are the only one sleeping in that bed tonight because your bedroom air conditioner is working. relevant

That’s right. I admit it, I love my air conditioner.

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