I hover overMessage, then hesitate.
“Don’t be fooled, Cat,” I whisper. “This is howPablogot you.”
I sigh and tapSave for Later.
“Points for pretending to be decent. We’ll circle back.”
@HalfWritten
Who are you beneath the surface?
I’m someone learning that softness isn’t weakness. That solitude can be healing, but connection is what keeps us human. I believe in long walks without a destination, and conversations that last hours. I’m here because I want something real. Something that makes time stop.
Interests:
Old records. Last-minute road trips. Sunday mornings. Handwritten notes. The ocean at night. The smell of freshly watered grass.
I freeze, rereading that line.
The smell of freshly watered grass.
My chest does a weird little shift, like something just slotted into place. Out of all the lines I’ve read tonight, this one feels… honest.
I hover over theMessagebutton. My thumb is actually trembling.
Do I really want to do this? To risk opening up again? To risk… feeling?
The little button glows, waiting. This profile doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels like someone who’stiredof pretending, and suddenly, I’m not just curious. I’m… intrigued.
I hesitate for half a second, then tapMessage.
@OneLastLine:
Not to be dramatic, but I think your profile just restored a little of my faith in humanity.
Chapter 3
Istare at the screen, thumb hovering like I might take it back. Did I really just message a stranger? On the app Iexplicitlytold Bri I wasn’t going to download?
Apparently, I did.
And now I’m watching a little circle spin on the screen, pulsing gently like it’s thinking, like the app itself is deciding if I deserve to be ghosted immediately or not.
Then …
@HalfWritten:
Have you lost faith in humanity? Or just in men?
I snort. An actual out-loud snort.
@OneLastLine:
You’re right. Men.
Just downloaded this app, swiped through four profiles that made me want to delete my entire gender preference, and then you showed up talking about handwritten notes and fresh grass.
A pause. The circle returns.
