She watched the spaghetti sauce erupting like tiny volcanic orgasms. Stirring the thick sauce, the words bubbled up from her long forgotten past, "Slow down, simmer, relax." Alan's image appeared before her. She was back at the dimly lit skating rink, it was cold enough to see her breath in little puffs as she tried partner skating for the first time. Alan was so patient as he gently shook her hand and made her arm do a wave-like motion. "Relax," he said as they circled the ice rink for the umpteenth time. Their hands were criss-crossed between and in front of them the way "real" figure skaters did. Carrie cursed her hockey skates, the first pair of ice skates she had ever owned, her wish for Christmas this year had been granted. He gently shook her hand, "let it loose, relax," and later his hands roving slowly over her body. "Slow down, relax, let loose," the words echoed in her mind and she gently stirred the thick, rich redness of the tomato sauce for her Valentine's Day meal. Carrie turned the burner lower to slow it down, let the full flavors absorb each other into one. Simmer, slow and easy, relax into the flavor of the moment; as she and Alan had done those eons ago when he was so patient, reassuring, and she was so naive.

The decorations were all red, pink, and white, the whole house echoed Valentine's Day preparedness. It was her and Jerome's special anniversary day–every Valentine's Day since…