Personal Narrative Essay: It's A Lovely Day

It's a lovely morning, thought Dave as he poured milk on his bowl of cereals. Out the window, two enormous maple trees blocked the view of the city. Despite that, the tangled branches made a beautiful view themselves; brown lines among a pool of green leaves. "I've picked out a dazzling outfit for you, my dear," Dave said to Becky, who remained silent. "It's the pink dress you like."
After hearing no reply, Dave quietly ate his cereals, blew a kiss in the air at the door for Becky, then went to work. The kiss fell on the floor. Eight hours of uninteresting accounting matters passed by. Although Dave was an excellent accountant, he found it mind-numbing, unlike his true passion: sketching. Sketching anything and everything generated joy
"Becky, babe! Dinner's ready!" shouted Dave across the rooms. Two heartily plates filled with golden spaghetti topped with a bunch of penny-sized meatballs were on the petite wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Dave took off his white kitchen apron and sat in front of one of the plates, and pushed the seat to his right for Becky to sit.
Dave ate alone that night. The following day was just like the day before and the day before and the day before. Different outfits on the bed then again in the closet. This Monday was the long-waited day of the month, the day Dave expects to be promoted. He sat patiently on his disk at work until he was summoned to the manager's office. "Good morning, Dave. Please, have a seat," started George M. Belkins, Dave's manager of four years. Dave sat on the black chair opposing his manager, and listened. "You're one of our best accountants, Dave", George said. "Nevertheless, I believe you don't belong here
You didn't suppose we were letting you go, did you?" George said, and then continued. "You were asked for at our branch in Phoenix. They'll appoint you as head accountant there."
"But sir, Phoenix is too distant to commute there daily." Dave protested.
"Ah, in speak of which, you'll have to change location. Still, don't worry about that. We've got a pleasant little apartment for you in Phoe –"
"Sir, I… I can't leave. I shouldn't leave. Becky's –"
George's brief yet loud sigh stopped Dave.
"Oh, Dave. Becky is –"
"Becky is here and so am I. I'm sorry, sir. I turn your offer down". Dave stood up, buttoned his jacket, and left George in shock. He didn't predict this.
"Dave, it's been two –"
"Excuse me, sir." With a nod, Dave exited the room. Two months later, Dave was genuinely surprised when his coworkers brought him a cake and sang him happy birthday. It was a strawberry cake, both Becky and Dave's favorite. When all the singing was over and the cake-slicing began, Dave said loudly, "Let me save a piece for Becky. Strawberry is her favorite."
Everyone stopped talking and gazed at Dave, who was slicing the cake. And as soon as he finished and looked up at them, they went back to normal, but more quietly. Justin, the new receptionist, didn't understand what that was. His friend Derek