Part 2

Part 1 here.

As she exited the train, scurrying along with the masses of bodies all shrouded in the same air of commercialised romanticism, she braced herself for the day.

Ducking and weaving through the crowd, she ignored the 4th rose peddler and finally made it into the lifts of the austere office building. She pondered to herself how she came to be in this predicament while standing shoulder to shoulder with a dozen other people, breathing in a barrage of body odours in a small claustrophobic elevator.

She had dedicated 16 golden years of her youth to education in the hopes of fulfilling the eventual goal of becoming a millionaire, a wife and a mother by the time she turned 35. Yet, as the antiquated elevator made it's excruciating climb to the 5th floor, she was nowhere near to making her first million, pushing paper for a job, single and on the wrong side of 25.

The most jarring word for this day, february the 14th, being "single".

After what seems like uncomfortable eons stuck like a statue at attention, she stepped out of the suffocating box of horror, swung open the glass doors, hardened herself and was hit by waves of over-excited voices shrilly calling attention to the bouquet of flowers and boxes of chocolate on their desks.

It wasn't long before a being from Venus popped her head into her cubicle.