Calendar By anonymous Author: 348 words drabble -------- When he was ten, he broke her bike and he gave her his word to have it fixed. She gave him a threat to personally amputate him if he didn’t. It was a Thursday. On Friday, he was eleven. He gave her a smile as he battled a gym leader. She gave encouragements from behind him. He was twelve and it was a Saturday. He gave her a bug and she squashed it in front of him. They fought all through Sunday, and they made up on Monday when he gave her an apology and she gave him a pat. It was a Tuesday and he was fourteen. She gave him a sad smile and he gave her a tear as they went their separate ways. On Wednesday, he was fifteen. He gave her a thought and she gave him nothing in return. It was a Thursday again, the day anniversary of her broken bike, but he was sixteen. He had just become the Pokemon Master and he searched the crowd hoping she came. May and Max cheered but Brock shook his head. She wasn’t there. Nothing was given that day. The next day, Friday, he went back to Pallet town where he was deemed a hero. He gave a call to the Cerulean city gym and she gave him the voice that he had missed. On Saturday, he was seventeen. He gave her a dozen roses and she gave him a kiss. On Sunday, he was nineteen. He gave her a ring with a diamond matched her eyes. She gave him a smile and a ‘yes’. They skipped Monday, it wasn’t important. But the day after, Tuesday, they were twenty- two and they gave each other a child. Thursday came again, she gave him a question and he gave her an answer, “It was a Thursday Misty, when I realized I loved you,” Because on that day, not only did he give her his word, he also gave her his heart. - - - …and they lived happily ever after -------------------- author: I don’t know why I keep writing, I’m on a roll. I’ve decided write something different because the incessant ‘script writing’ and the need to include whose POV it is every five sentences that I find on this site sickens me. The annoying fast paced love stories between Ash and Misty and the cliché “I can’t tell him/ her I love him/her, because I’ll ruin our friendship” crap. I pity the poor souls who think that is ‘writing’. One of these days, I will write a parody about that.