Catherine sits alone in her opulent apartment, high above the bustling city. The spacious living room, adorned with plush velvet couches and glistening crystal chandeliers, exudes an air of refined elegance. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, golden hue upon the polished marble floors. Intricately woven Persian rugs, soft beneath her feet, showcase her impeccable taste and appreciation for the finer things in life.
Every corner of the apartment reflects Catherine's discerning eye for luxury. The state-of-the-art kitchen boasts gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a gleaming marble countertop, a haven for her culinary indulgences. Expansive bookshelves line the walls of her personal library, filled with leather-bound classics and contemporary masterpieces, inviting intellectual exploration and escape.
Her sanctuary is complete with three bedrooms, each a haven of comfort and tranquillity. The master suite, with its regal four-poster bed swathed in silk sheets, envelops her in a cocoon of relaxation. Adjoining the bedroom, a spa-like unsuited bathroom beckons with its indulgent jacuzzi tub, rain shower, and delicate scents of lavender and eucalyptus.
Yet, amidst the opulence and comfort, a pervasive sense of emptiness lingers. The apartment, once a sanctuary of shared love and cherished memories, now appears shrouded in shades of grey and bleakness without Bruce's presence. In this moment of quiet reflection, Catherine acknowledges the painful truth: he is not coming back. The absence of his laughter, the touch of his hand, and the warmth of his embrace leave an indelible void, a haunting reminder of a love lost.
It has been a month since her breakup with Bruce, and the wound is still fresh. She scrolls through her phone, reading messages from him that are painful reminders of what they once had.
Bruce is not coming back.
Making her way to the empty bedroom feels like walking to the guillotine. Though it is as luxurious and comfortable, if not even more so, than the rest of the apartment. It, too, has become cold and unwelcoming, just like Bruce. She will never forget his last words as she tried reaching out to him again. It was stupid of her, but she had to try. Catherine stares at the big bed in front of her with disdain. What is the use of getting in when she knows that there will be no comfort, warmth and loving arms to hold her until sleep overcomes her? With a thought, she turns around and walks out of her bedroom. An idea briefly makes an appearance in her fatigued mind but vanishes just as quickly.
Selling the apartment is not an option!
She makes it to the first spare bedroom. It is just as comfortable and luxurious as the main bedroom but with fewer memories of her intimacy with Bruce. She does not bother turning the lights on; she heads towards the bed and sighs heavily as she peels back the duvet and settles between the cold sheets. She is relieved to discover that she is not severely tortured in this bedroom; though sleep seems to be avoiding her, at least she is not tossing and turning. She decides to grab her phone, her mind finally made up. Toni has spoken highly of it; at first, she had utterly refused to even entertain her best friend’s idea, but that is because she thought Bruce was coming back. The realization of that not happening, coupled with the profound longing for intimacy and companionship, finally makes her mind up for her.
“I can’t believe that I am about to do this.” She says as her fingers swiftly swipe across the screen of her phone.
"Amora, it is then."
She clicks on the application name and waits as the installation begins. She is about to change her mind when the installation completes; the app opens with a burst of vibrant colours, its sleek design beckoning her to explore its possibilities.
Catherine's eyes scan the screen, taking in the app's features. It boasts an advanced algorithm that claims to match users based on compatibility and shared interests. The profile creation process begins, and she's met with a series of seemingly mundane and predictable questions. A scowl forms on her face, and she rolls her eyes at the banality of it all. But the desire to connect with another human soul drives her on.
With a sigh, she reluctantly provides answers, revealing snippets of her personality and desires, but remaining guarded, unsure of what to expect. With its polished user experience, the app's interface presents her with a sea of potential matches, each accompanied by carefully curated profiles and glimpses into their lives. The app's promise of a tailored experience entices her, even if she questions the authenticity of it all.
Catherine's finger hovers over the screen, a mix of hope and resignation coursing through her veins. With a hesitant touch, she swipes right on a few profiles, exploring the possibilities, however remote they may seem. She swipes left again and again. Occasionally, she comes upon a profile picture that catches her eye, but she changes her mind on closer inspection and after reading the bio. She keeps doing that until she gets to a page that implores her to make a purchase before going on.
A sceptic laugh escapes her lips.
“Blood-sucking vampires, making a buck out of people’s misery. I’m not paying a cent to interact with low-grade men. I haven’t even found one profile worth a cent of my money.” She says as she tosses her aside. She was upset at herself for falling for this nonsense. Upset that she did not see anything resembling Bruce in there!
“Online dating my foot.” She says, staring up at the high ceiling.
Then she hears a ping as her phone lights up and bathes the room in a blueish ambience.
Without even thinking about it, she grabs it and sees a grinning face and words below the face. The name George is above the face. The face looks nothing like what she had indicated as her preference. He has nothing that reminds her of Bruce. Below his face is a message, and Catherine reads it.
“I would be lion if I didn’t tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Catherine bursts out laughing. She wants to ignore him for a split second but decides what the heck. She had not paid the ransom, but apparently, she could still chat with men who seemed unable to spell. She clicks on the face, and a chat box appears.
George: "I would be lion if I didn't tell you that you are the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen."
She furrows her brow at the misspelling, a mixture of amusement and annoyance flickering across her face.
George: *lying* ☺️
Despite the initial mishap, Catherine gives him a chance and engages in conversation. Though half-heartedly.
Catherine: Thank you for the compliment, George. It's an exciting way to start a conversation. How are you today?
George: Oh, I'm glad you caught my little typo there! Autocorrect. I'm doing well, thank you. I'm browsing through this app, hoping to meet someone intriguing. How about you?
Catherine: I'm doing alright, just exploring the app myself. It's always interesting to see who's out there. Any particular reason you reached out to me?
George: Well, your profile caught my eye. Your smile is captivating, and your interests align with mine. It might be worth getting to know you better.
Catherine: I appreciate the compliment. So George, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?
George: Oh, I have a wide range of interests. I enjoy hiking, trying new recipes, and going to art galleries. How about you? What are your hobbies?
Catherine: I am passionate about event planning and working in that field. It keeps me busy but fulfilled. I also enjoy exploring new cafes, reading books, and travelling when possible.
As the conversation flows, George's tone takes an unexpected turn.
George: By the way, what are you doing right now?
Catherine raises an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone but decides to respond.
Catherine: Chatting to you, of course. Why do you ask?
George: Since we're getting to know each other, are you in bed already? It would be fun to see what you're wearing. Care to show me?
Catherine stares at the screen, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment crossing her features. After a few seconds of silence, George grows impatient.
George: Hello?
George: Are you still there?
Catherine's finger hovers over the screen, contemplating her response. Instead, she takes a deep breath and chooses to exit the app, ending the conversation abruptly.
Mildly disgusted by George's candidness and the direction the conversation took, Catherine immediately places her phone face down on the pillow next to her. She hears more bleeps as notifications come in, but she feels a sense of relief in disconnecting from the app, at least for now. Strangely, she finds herself smiling somewhat, realizing that she's still capable of feeling a range of emotions, even if they're not all positive.
A fleeting moment where Bruce ceases to exist, no matter how fleeting.
As fatigue slowly overtakes her, Catherine's mind drifts into a realm of dreams. She is entangled in a whirlwind of emotions, experiencing vivid visions of Bruce in all manner of intimacy and ridiculous scenes. In her subconscious world, she dances with him under a starry sky, their laughter echoing through the night. They embark on fantastical adventures, exploring hidden realms and creating memories that defy the boundaries of reality.
Yet, amidst the joyous moments, a sense of longing tinges on Catherine's dreams. She reaches out to touch Bruce's face, only to have him slip away like sand through her fingers. The dreams reflected her yearning for the love and connection she once shared with him, magnifying the void in her heart.
