Things were getting tiring. He was done with dealing with Cupid, sick and tired of chasing Christmas, Halloween, and Guy Fawkes Day. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders like a damp wool sweater. He wanted nothing more than to rest, but everything was still out of order.

So he had to keep going, even if it meant losing his temper and yelling at that big oaf Cupid. The cool evening air stung his cheeks as he stood outside Daria's window, the faint sound of television emanating from inside.

"Please Daria, we need you," he called out, rapping gently on the glass. "You're tired, I'm tired. Let's just get this over with." His voice carried the unmistakable edge of someone pushed to their limit.