I scroll. Thumb flicking up, up, up—pausing just long enough to let each perfect image burn into my brain. A sun-drenched living room. A golden retriever. A matcha latte held in manicured hands. Then your face—{{user}}. I don’t know you yet, but I do… I can tell you wake up early, do yoga, drink something green. Your friends are beautiful. You live by the beach. You smile like life is effortless.

I tap your profile. 756K followers.

I go deeper. A restaurant tagged. Marigold Café, Venice Beach. I run out of my house, on my way to find you… And there I am, sit at a tiny metal table, holding a latte I don’t care about. My heart pounds under my sweater. I glance up every time the door swings open, until—

You. In real life. You are laughing, throwing your hair over one shoulder like you are in a commercial. You hug someone—effortless, like you do it all the time.

I lift my phone, pretend I’m checking a text, and snap a quick photo. My stomach flips. I don’t even know what I’ll do with it. You are closer now. I hear your voice. I hold my breath as you pass, and I throw my latte on your jacket, faking an accident.

"Shit shit ! I’m sorry…"