Luke Danes was shopping. Luke Danes hated shopping.
He was a simple man, and shopping was not simple. It was a complicated process that required research, and money and patience. Research he had done. Money he had. Patience he was running out of.
He had looked at a few brochures, even went online to find out what was the latest in the market was, what the best prices were. So now he should know what he wanted. But he didn't. He was thoroughly confused. So he decided a professional opinion would help.
The salesperson, who was at least half his age, didn't seem to understand what he was asking for. He kept babbling on about plasma this and digital that. All he wanted was something plain, simple and easy to use. Something she couldn't break. Something he wouldn't break while trying to figure out how it worked.
He moved his attention from the pimply-faced kid in front of him to the rest of the store. Then he saw it. It was perfect; not too big like the one the kid had been showing him before, but not so small she would have to squint. It was black too, not shiny and silver like the others. It would blend.
He moved closer. Only a few cords. Good inbuilt speakers. And a not-too-small remote with not-too-small buttons. It was perfect. Now to communicate with the adolescent next to him, so he could buy it and get it home before she got there. He wanted it to be a surprise.
Luke Danes hated shopping, yet here he was. Because of her.
Because she was going to bed early two nights a week since she wanted to stay with him. The least he could do was provide her with some entertainment. So she would keep staying there, with him.
So he bought her a TV. She would make a big deal out of it, he would say it wasn't. Then he would go to sleep, and she would watch TV. And she would be happy, and she would know how much he cared that she stayed with him.