Dreams …, by Amy Friedman

While I waited, I clicked the small photo of my semi-blind lunch date the agency had sent.
Strong-boned face, flat ears. Intense dark eyes, brushed-up brows, spiky gelled black hair. No smile. So far so good. A bit metrosexual, but no problem. Clearly, he was intense.
The agency said he was tall and well-built, too. All good.
A tap on my shoulder caught my attention. “Jenn?” Ah, the name I’d given. I turned happily.
My smile froze. A heavy five o’clock shadow covered his forehead. His brow ridge. And … his ears …
I knew I shouldn’t have registered with Sapiens!

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