Page 4 of The Cyrano Situation

I should have refused. I should have insisted he delete the profile immediately and never mention it again. But curiosity, which I have to admit is my perpetual weakness, got the better of me.

I scrolled through the rest of the email, reading the exchanges between "me" and Jules28. They discussed Japanese literature, the ethics of unreliable narrators, the merits of different translation approaches. It was, I had to admit, exactly the kind of conversation I would enjoy having.

"Jules seems well-read," I said finally.

"Very," Hart agreed, looking hopeful. "And thoughtful. And interested in you—or LiteraryMinded36, at least."

I closed the email and fixed Hart with my sternest look. "This is still completely inappropriate. You've created a false persona, engaged someone under false pretenses, and violated my privacy in the process."

"All true," Hart admitted. "And if you want me to delete everything right now, I will. But..."

"But what?"

"But I think you're intrigued." He studied my face, and I fought to keep my expression neutral. "I think you're curious about Jules, about what it might be like to have conversations like this with someone who gets your literary references and doesn't think your routine is weird."

He wasn't entirely wrong, which was infuriating.

"What exactly are you proposing, Hart? That you continue this charade indefinitely? That seems unsustainable, not to mention ethically dubious."

"No, of course not." He leaned forward, eyes bright with that boundless enthusiasm that both irritated and fascinated me.

"I'm proposing a collaboration. I'll continue the initial conversations, with your input and approval.

If things progress to the point where you might want to meet Jules, we transition to the real you, gradually.

You get to skip the awkward early dating app stage and start with someone who already appreciates your mind. "

I stared at him, trying to process this bizarre proposal. "You want to be my Cyrano."

"Exactly!" Hart beamed. "Though hopefully with a happier ending. Less dying of unrequited love, more you finding someone who appreciates Japanese mysteries and fourteen steps to the bathroom."

"This is ridiculous," I said, but with less conviction than before.

"Maybe," Hart conceded. "But it's also kind of perfect.

You hate the performative aspects of dating—the swiping, the small talk, the coffee meetings with strangers.

This way, you can establish a real intellectual connection first. And Jules already likes you, or the version of you he's getting to know. "

I should have shut it down immediately. It was deceptive, potentially hurtful to Jules, and completely outside my comfort zone.

But the truth—the uncomfortable truth I was reluctant to admit even to myself—was that the conversation with Jules had been more intellectually stimulating than any I'd had in months. And the thought of more such exchanges was... appealing.

"If, and this is a significant 'if', I were to consider this absurd scheme," I said slowly, "there would need to be rules."

Hart's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Absolutely! Rules are good. Rules are great. I love rules."

"You've never followed a rule in your life."

"Not true. I always return my library books on time." He grinned. "But I will follow your rules for this. Promise."

I sighed, already regretting what I was about to say. "I would need to approve every message before it's sent. No exceptions."

"Done."

"If at any point I decide this has gone too far, we end it immediately. Delete the profile, no arguments."

"Of course."

"And if, another significant 'if', things progress to the point of meeting in person, we develop a transition plan that minimizes deception." I fixed him with a stern look. "I won't begin a potential relationship on a foundation of lies."

"Absolutely agreed." Hart was practically bouncing in his seat now. "This is going to be great, Cyril. Jules is going to love the real you."

"We are not at the 'love' stage, Hart. We are at the 'tentatively engaging in literary discussion via a morally questionable digital masquerade' stage."

He laughed, a full-bodied sound that seemed to fill my small office. "That should be a relationship status option on Facebook."

Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward. "This is still a terrible idea."

"The best ideas usually are, at first glance." Hart stood, gathering his takeout container. "Check your email tonight. I'll forward Jules' latest message, and you can tell me how you'd respond."

As he headed for the door, a thought occurred to me. "Hart?"

He turned, eyebrows raised.

"Why are you doing this? Really?"

For a moment, his perpetually cheerful expression faltered, revealing something more complex beneath.

"Because everyone deserves connection, Cyril.

Even rigid, routine-loving editors with elbow patches.

" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Even golden retrievers in human form who talk too much and bring curry to other people's offices. "

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me with a half-eaten sandwich, an ethical dilemma, and the lingering sense that there was more to Hart Fielding than I'd previously allowed myself to see.