For my birthday, my boyfriend gave me a cheap little cake from the supermarket instead of a real birthday cake. After I took the cake, which was barely bigger than my palm, out of the plastic bag, he stuck a candle in it and turned off the lights, telling me to make a wish. I stared at the flickering candle in the dark. Eventually, I reached over and ruffled his fuzzy hair, which felt a little stiff but still oddly satisfying to touch. "Lance! It's my birthday, and this is what you're giving me? A tiny cake like this? You think you're so funny, huh?" In the darkness, he grabbed my wrist before pulling me into his arms. "Last year, I ordered a cake for your birthday, and you lectured me for wasting money," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of mock sadness. "This year, I didn't waste any money. These little cakes are perfect. They're cheap and practical, and you get to eat them for three days." -My boyfriend, Lance Gill, and I were the infamous poor couple in
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