"Yeah Ahn, it is," Xander affirmed before staring back at the basketball game on TV that always seemed to get interesting when Anya wanted his attention.
"Clearly the result of shoddy craftsmanship." She looked at it closely again, sticking a finger through the offending space. The frayed pink thread snagging on her finger nail.
"Where's my receipt?" She began to rummage through a pile of old receipts, take out menus, bills and other things she would have to take care of because Xander couldn't be bothered.
She found the slip of white paper, smoothed out the wrinkles and read the faded angular blue numbers on it.
"I'm returning this and getting my money back. It says on the receipt I have 30 days."
"Ahn, that's if it came like that. If you remember, that happened in the car a week ago when we were uh..." Xander paused and thought back to the sex that was had in the back seat of his fairly new car. He could pause and reflect. A commercial was on.
"Yes. You ripped it when you were trying to get my shirt over my head. You were a wild animal that night, Xander," she patted his thigh and smiled. "And you growled. I like it very much when you growl."
"Uh, so you can't take it back." Xander grabbed a bowl of chips and turned the volume up on the Lakers game once again.
"But the manufacturers should be aware of this. I paid good money for this shirt and the customer should be satisfied. The customer isn't satisfied." She held up the shirt again. "This is where our Capitalist dollars go to, Xander. What are those third world people doing with that twenty-five cents an hour anyway?"
"Being very patriotic by not spending it in one place, I'm sure." Xander nodded, agreeing with the ref's call for a foul on number 45. "Besides, it's normal wear and tear, Ahn. Emphasis on the word 'tear'."
Ignoring Xander's logic, Anya's lit up. "I know. I will put holes in all my shirts and say that it's an epidemic. If they don't give me back my money, I will picket. They will be forced to close down."
"Yeah. Walmart will cave in. I can see it."
"I'm serious. I will go make up a sign just in case." Anya stood up and looked at her fiancee. "I need you to go with me."
Xander glanced up at Anya's expectant face then at Shaq as he bounced the ball at the free throw line. The score was 96 to 98. One minute left in the fourth quarter. They could win this.
He could feel Anya's eyes burning into him. He looked up again then at the television. God, did she look extra veiny?
Xander stood up slowly with the remote, watching the box blacken to a pinpoint and his hopes of seeing the Lakers win the finals dashed to bits.
"I'll get the car," he smiled, feeling a pain in his chest. He had always wondered what his heart breaking would feel like.
Anya smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She walked towards the closet content. "I'll get the poster board and spray paint."