Back in my kitchen, I clench my teeth.
A man texts me
and now I’m hallucinating painful memories.
Very sexy of me.
I reach for my phone,
then yank my hand back.
He’s not like other guys.
But they never are at first.
They smile sincerely.
They sayI wanna see you
They shed tears in bookstores
and turn it into a moment.
This is why I have rules in contracts,
in black ink,
so there’s no question about how it ends.
I take another sip of cold disappointment.
I mean coffee.
The phone doesn’t move. It sits there.
Nowhere to go. No legs. No shame.
Full of the fucking audacity.
“Okay, Brooke?—”
A breathe out a beat.
Then Brooke’s voice comes through the speakers—AI Brooke:“Yes, Miss Allison?”
“Quick one. Andrew waited every night for twenty-eight nights for me, texted twenty-four hours after we saw each other again, and all he said was‘I wanna see you’—no period. What’s the probability he’s trying to get laid?”
I close my eyes.
My heartbeat stalks like footsteps down a hallway I don’t want to walk.
AI Brooke:“Based on available data, the probability his message was motivated primarily by sexual manipulation is approximately 3.2%.”
I groan.
“Okay, Brooke.
“Thanks for the extremely low probability.
