The Problem with Pretending

by Emma Hart

I swear to God, if my life were a romcom movie, this would be the part in the movie where our eyes would meet, the camera would go into slo-mo, and there would be

a ten-second interlude of dreamy, romantic music while we stared at each other.

“You’re really shooting your shot here, aren’t you?”

“I was looking for your brain-to-mouth filter. It’s missing,” he replied wryly. “Oh, good luck with that,” I replied with a sigh. “I’ve been looking for twenty-eight years and have yet to find it.”