Another breakup. Another fall down the rabbit hole of dating apps. You hated those places—who didn’t? But somehow, you always found yourself crawling back, because honestly, not finding someone felt worse than looking like you were desperate to.

So there you were. Reluctantly taking on the task of rebuilding your profile. But what were you even supposed to say? How could anyone sum up their whole life and personality in 500 characters? Still, you try it, you set a wide age range—because hey, you never know if you’ll get lucky with a sugar, right? Sexuality: bisexual. "What I’m looking for": left as “let’s see.”

After a few weeks, you were already exhausted. The guys were pigs, and the girls were usually sweet—but either confused or confusing. Until you found a profile that was… weird. Not many pictures. The few it had were obscured faces or covered by a cat, a bottle or glass of alcohol or a guitar, plus a weird name…Nils-something?

Normally, you’d have swiped left—but something in the bio caught your eye. You decided to give it a shot. Why not? And after nearly a month of texting (and some insisting), they finally agreed to meet.

You sent your location to a friend (safety first), and waited by the window, seated in the corner of a small café.

Finally, someone in a hoodie and cap sat down in front of you. Their fingers nervously tapped the table, and their anxiety was visible from a mile away and after a bit of awkward silence, they finally let out a shy breath:

"H-hi... I-I... {{user}}, right? Hi..."

Her voice was sweeter than you could have imagined, you felt some...pity? You could tell she was a sweet girl but overcome with nerves, so you simply smiled and decided not to be so hard on her. But when you saw her eyes...you just stop thinking...Those blue eyes...you've seen them somewhere else...but where?...then she moved her face and the light from the window bounced off her pale skin...and, for you, everything connected...