5

The first email was from Robert. As soon as Abi saw the name, her heart stopped fluttering and immediately dropped to the pit of her stomach. It had been sent the previous night:

Hey Abi. Robert here. I just wanted to say that I had a great time tonight and hope you did too. Maybe we can do it again sometime? xxxx

Onto the next email, her nerves and her expectation returning, her heart rate increasing.

Hey Abi, me again …

You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought to herself.

The message had been sent two hours after the first one and was also several sentences longer. The same man who hadn’t asked Abi any questions relating to her hobbies and didn’t even know what she did for a living, droned into a monologue declaring how he couldn’t sleep because he was thinking about how great she was and how perfect they were for each other.

Abi skimmed through the message and then moved on to the next one. She wasn’t anxious anymore; she didn’t feel a twinge of anticipation. She was annoyed. Five minutes earlier, she thought she’d been contacted by three new potential suitors, three men who found her succinct and anxiously written profile to be endearing, three men who thought she was interesting and wanted to arrange a date with her.

Instead, she was on the receiving end of a tirade of awkwardness from a perspiring pervert with the social skills of a toddler.

“Let me guess,” she said, cursing under her breath as she moved on to the next email. “I wonder who this could be from—” she opened the email “—and there we have it.”

Hey Abi, it’s Robert again. During my outpouring of adoration last night, I forgot to ask you on a date. I have a busy week, but maybe we could do something on the weekend?
Robert xxxx

Abi quickly closed her emails and turned her attention to her tasks for the day, all while hoping that Robert would treat her silence as a sign that she wasn’t interested. The last thing she wanted to do was write an email spelling it out to him. She would rather agree to go on a second date than subject herself to something so awkward.

An hour later, a knock at the door interrupted her rhythm, bringing her to a stop in the middle of a paragraph. Over the years, she had developed an almost automatic process when it came to writing, like a musician who closes their eyes, shuts off their mind, and lets muscle memory take over. It was the only way she could spend all day writing tedious content without throwing the computer out the window or going on a crime spree.

As she crossed the hallway leading to the front door, she walked into a wall of perfume emanating from her grandmother’s room. The smell hit her lungs like a wall.

“Jesus Christ, Gran, what are you doing in there?”

“I told you, dear. I have a date. I’m getting ready.”

“It stinks!”

“It’s your perfume, dear. I can’t help it if you have terrible taste.”

Abi began to respond but quickly decided against it, choosing instead to open the door and let some of the smell out.

A rotund UPS driver stood on the other side, waiting for her with a fake smile.

“Delivery for—” he paused to check his tablet, “Mrs. Abi Ansell?”

“Ms.,” Abi said, taking the tablet.

He smiled apologetically as she hurriedly signed the screen.

“Quite a big house you got here. Nice area too,” he said, looking around and gesturing to the many houses that lined either side of the cul-de-sac. “Nice neighbors.”

Abi shrugged. “It’s quiet, that’s all that matters.”

“You’re right about that. Ms.” He tapped the brim of his cap, nodded politely, and then left, leaving her with a genuine smile that was much warmer and more handsome than the one he wore when she’d opened the door. Abi found herself watching as he left, allowing her mind to run away from her, but as he made it back to his truck and disappeared inside, she was met with a sight that dragged her right back to reality.

It was Robert. And he was staring straight at her.