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