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some horror movies that I can’t forget them. They play over

and over in my head and I end up sleeping with the lights on

for a week. I’m pretty sure that’s bad for sleep quality. So is

being scared senseless when you have to walk to your car in

the dark. I always check my backseat now, thanks to this

particular horror movie I watched. The rest I’ve seen are just

so silly that I end up laughing at them and wondering if they

aren’t designed to be comedies.

“I guess that’s pretty much all I have for now. I’ll write

up your profile and then send it to you for approval. After that,

when I have some decent matches, I can let you know. You

can log in and check them out and read through all the

messages exchanged.”

“Thank you. Really.”

When Steph stands, there’s something in her face that I

don’t understand. It’s her eyes. Maybe she’s just really worried

about this. I’m not sure that she wants a match that badly or if

it’s her parents pushing her to act. It makes my job harder, and

it should not make me feel inordinately happy about her not

really wanting to find Mr. Freaking Right.

I offer my hand, and when she shakes it, I don’t get

heat or lighting or silly jolts running up my arm. That would

be too trivial. What I get is a sensation that moves through my

whole body. It doesn’t feel like electricity. It feels like warmth.

Which makes me sad. I need to nail this one to keep

my job. I really need my job. I need to succeed. I need to be

able to pay my bills. It sucks to admit that I’ve never wanted

to find a match less than I want to find one for Steph and know

I have to do it anyway.

I reluctantly call Tildy over after Steph leaves. I take