Short Love Story: The Oven Light by Carlos Salinas

“I need a 25-watt light bulb, please,” Emily asked Mark.
“Sure, I think we have some in the back.” Mark came back empty-handed, “We are out, but they should be coming in any day now.”
“Ok, great, I’ll be back tomorrow, thanks, Mark.”
Emily knew Mark from school; they had several classes together but had not really had a conversation together that went past the normal topics: school, the football games, and teachers. Still, Emily knew there was something special about Mark.
The next day, Emily was back at the hardware store promptly at four in the afternoon. Mark saw her walking in and shook his head. She smiled and nodded and waved goodbye as she walked out.
The same happened the next day. On the third, she came in and waited for Mark to help her. He was running back and forth between the aisles carrying large boxes of screws, wrenches, and other tools that were unknown to Emily in their use and names.
“Are they here?” Emily asked, her eyes shining with hope.
“Wait-a-minute,” Mark replied curtly. He was clearly under a lot of pressure. He was solely responsible for the inventory of the entire store. “Look, I’ll call you when they come in, OK?” he called from the last aisle where the sound of shuffling boxes came from.
“OK, thanks again, Mark,” Emily called to him and went home.
Mark continued stacking the boxes of screws, wrenches and other tools that were unknown to Emily in their use and names. “What a way to spend a birthday,” he sighed to himself. Mark “celebrated” his 18th birthday that day.
After a grueling day of checking lists, calling suppliers, and helping customers, Mark was ready to just go home and sleep. It was a dreadful way to spend a birthday, especially for such a young man.
After the long walk home, Mark could finally see his house. He would make a sandwich and then fall right to sleep on his bed, or couch, whichever he fell on first.
As he approached his house he could see a plastic container sitting on his door step. It made him walk a little faster. He finally picked it up and saw there was note with the cookies in the container. It read:

Dear Mark

I’m sorry for hounding you for the light bulb for the past few days, it’s just that I can’t see what I’m baking without the light bulb for the oven. I have to keep checking and opening the oven door to make sure that what I’m baking is not burned. The cookies are a little burned at the bottom. I’m sorry –it is the 3rd batch I baked. Happy Birthday!

Emily