Linda refused to cry as she tugged the sleeves of the red sweater over her hands. Rain blurred the cars and traffic lights below, turning everything into a kaleidoscope of colors. She lived in a city with eight million other people and yet was utterly alone on her birthday of all days. She reread the letter before crumpling it into a ball. A three-year relationship deserved more than a few good memories and the promise of a future coffee date. Maybe Dean found someone else while interning. Well, she wouldn’t waste her birthday feeling sorry for herself. 

Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it and grabbed her keys instead. The Italian bakery two blocks down always had beautiful cakes on display. She’d pick something indulgent and ask them to write Happy Birthday Linda on it. Then at the corner store she’d buy balloons, candles, and a bouquet of roses. The phone buzzed again. 

Linda pulled on socks and laced up her Doc Martens. There was a knock on the door. Probably another delivery for Mrs. Brown, who lived next door. She yanked it open, ready to lecture the FedEx guy, but found Dean standing in the hall, coffee in one hand, a beautiful cake covered in pastel sugar flowers in the other. A fat droplet of rain clung to his hair.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he said, smiling. “So I brought the party to you.” He stepped aside to reveal her friends clambering up the stairs, gifts in hand.

Word: Sweater | Action: Folding