Composing a thank-you text to Josh takes longer than researching the number of elementary-age kids who go hungry every weekend. Thirteen million in America alone, according to some experts. Thirteen million is way too many according to me. There’s got to be a better solution than sending fifty kids home with backpacks full of weekend meals, but my tech time is coming to a close. So after procrastinating on it all day, in my last two minutes, I quickly write Josh.

Everything feels fake—too chipper. (“Hey! Thanks for the care package!”) Too somber. (“Hey. Thanks for the care package.”) Too flirty (“Hey … Thanks for the care package …”) Which leads me to three epiphanies. First, punctuation marks are way more important than I ever knew or imagined. Second, I’m glad there’s not an app that divulges how many times a text gets rewritten before it’s sent. And third, I don’t want to work-zone Josh anymore.

Frustrated at myself, I check the time: six thirty. The kid I need to feed is about to come home from crew, hangry from her workout. Mom and Dad now text to say they missed their flight and will be back home closer to nine. Can you say de facto private chef? After I’ve fixed some chicken ravioli with pesto for Roz, I head to my bedroom, where I sit on my bed next to the pile of my newly tailored clothes.

“Still pathetic, but at least now you can tell you’ve got some curves” was Caresse’s final verdict.

As I’m texting my friends another round of thanks, so much easier to write than Josh’s, Roz finally deigns to inform me she’s got a team dinner tonight.

Excuse me? Now she tells me that she’s eating out?

Everyone else is moving on with their (normal) lives, my parents jet-setting on another last-second business trip, Roz hanging out with her team. Honestly, I should have asked Josh to go to Bok A Bok with me tonight. Everyone else made their plans without any regard to me. I need to make mine. I head outside to the patio, where the darkening evening awaits.

Me: Persephone Research Trip #1—Draconids

Me: In two weeks.

Me: Dress code: Warm.