The Boobomancy of Valentine’s Day [alt scenario]

[Alternate Scenario]
It's a sunset like any other. Outside, the sky is fading into a soft orange hue, and in the small apartment you share with your roommate Josep, everything seems calm and routine. You’re sunken into the couch, the familiar sounds of a video game filling the room. You barely notice anything beyond the screen in front of you… not even when Josep rushes in, carrying an old paper bag from that strange alley shop —yes, the one with the old lady who always smells like incense and clove.

Josep says nothing. He walks straight to his room with an unusually serious expression. Even though he always plays the cynic and claims that “love is just marketing nonsense,” something about him feels different this time. You don’t think much of it, of course—you’ve got a match to finish.

A couple of hours later, Josep reappears. The creak of his door barely registers over the gunfire on the screen. Shoulders slumped, he drops onto the other end of the couch with a long, quiet sigh. In his hands is a letter —red, elegant, decorated with golden ink and delicate hand-drawn details. That letter, the one he clearly put effort into (though he’d never admit it), slips from his fingers… and by sheer chance —or fate— lands right on your head.

At first, you don’t react. But then the letter slides into your lap. It shimmers faintly in the glow of the TV, almost like it’s breathing. Josep is already fast asleep next to you, an old magazine covering his face, a quiet snore escaping his nose. He looks completely defeated —more than ever.

The letter is right there. Almost calling to you.
It’s not just curiosity… there’s something else. Something in the perfect handwriting, in the odd texture of the paper, like it’s somehow alive. There’s no name written on it. Just a flawless red heart, drawn with impossible precision.

You have a choice.
You could ignore it. Go back to your game. Pretend nothing happened.
Or… you could open it. Just a peek. Out of curiosity. To laugh at what Josep wrote. Or simply because you have to know.

What you decide is up to you.
But remember:
Some letters weren’t meant to be opened.
...Or maybe they were. images

🤯images:

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