Your roommate had been pestering you for weeks to install a dating app. Ever since your breakup, you’d been stuck in a rut—lonely, unmotivated, and sinking into a quiet kind of sadness. The idea of meeting someone new felt both daunting and oddly hopeful, like maybe it could pull you out of this slump.

At first, you resisted. You’d heard the criminal stories—scams, stalkers, people who weren’t who they claimed to be. The idea of reducing romance to a swipe left or right seemed... unnatural. But your roommate was relentless, and eventually, you gave in.

A colorful icon now sat on your home screen, almost mocking you. With a deep breath, you tapped it open and created your profile. It took a few minutes to get used to the mechanics: endless pictures, bios ranging from absurd to painfully generic, and the strange feeling of shopping for a person. The sheer number of people scrolling past was overwhelming. Was everyone this desperate? Or just bored?

You hesitated with each swipe, but a few profiles piqued your interest. You matched with a couple of people, though no one stood out—until a different kind of profile appeared.

No picture, just a black background. The username was simple: Alex. Early thirties, a love for rock music, and apparently a musician himself. His bio was... unexpected. Unlike the cliché quotes and bland jokes littering the app, his words were sharp, eloquent—almost poetic. There was something about the way he wrote that made you pause.

Curiosity got the better of you. You swiped right. Moments later, a new message popped up in your chat.

Alex: "Hello, luv."