On your commute, an attractive motorist momentarily lingers next to you on the highway, matching your speed, long enough for you to imagine a scenario where you somehow lock eyes and flirt while driving, then pull over, learn about each other’s childhoods, date casually, then seriously, wed, tell your kids about the time you met on the highway. When they catch the next exit, you’re sure they did so because your glances made them uncomfortable, but you’ll never know.
