Mind the Gap | ✔️

November 30 @ 9:33 A.M.: Evan

A solid lid of gray clouds burdened the roofs and towers of Boston, its weight palpable.

My train carried me downtown, towards a day of endless and fruitless encounters. Staff meetings, breakout meetings, and team bonding meetings.

My boss of bosses, Liam had told me that a promotion might be on the horizon for me, pending approval by the board.

But today, work held little appeal, and I'd rather have stayed cuddled up in my Alewife man-cave. There, at least, I'd be able to watch the download count of Warriors of Math. I had submitted the app to the store last week, and it had almost immediately become featured in the Kids' Games department.

I still couldn't believe the number of downloads it got.

Its home screen displayed on my iPad, and I glanced at it with pride filling my heart. It featured the sword wielding heroine in her Braces-inspired dress.

Braces—what would she be doing now?

I shook my head, chasing her memory away. Life was way too short to waste it pondering missed opportunities and wild dreams.

At any rate, I knew what she would most likely be doing now.

Braces was cuddling with Mr. Chiseled Jaws.

And Venus' orbit was incompatible with mine, so I had let her float away.

My stars had to lie elsewhere.

We still have Mom, Janice had said, way back when we had had lunch at Chef's Retreat, on top of the Best Boston Insurance for that father/daughter event.

Yes, we still had Mom. Since her breakup with George the Chancellor, Helen's demeanor towards me had changed. She had mellowed down in an apparent effort to be friendly and non-naggy.

Yesterday, she had even called me, suggesting a family dinner for next Saturday.

Just the three of us. As it should be.

Realizing my fingers were stroking my heroine's black mane on the iPad, I took a deep breath and glanced out through the window to check the station we had just stopped in.

And I looked right into Braces' face.

It was framed by hair glowing in raspberry-red and summer sky-blue.

A gentle smile played on her lips.

How did she manage to look so different, yet so breathtaking each time I saw her?

Fuck Mr. Chiseled Jaws!

I just had to show her what effect she had on me. It might make me look silly. It might make me look like the stalkerish boy on the train next door, but I didn't care.

I lifted my tablet for her to see, pointed at the app, and then at me, showing I had created her digital replica.

She must have understood my message because she nodded and smiled. But then her bushy caterpillar eyebrows—she had dyed them in the same colors as her hair—one red and the other blue—approached each other, and she looked down.

Her smile returned after some seconds, and she brought up a communication weapon of her own—another tablet. Its dark screen displayed a drawing that resembled something I had only seen in a cartoon before. It depicted a laughing leprechaun with wild, dark hair and a crooked nose.

I grinned wildly. Was this really happening? We were finally communicating, she and I! After almost an entire year of misinterpreting each other, we had opened up a channel of communication. I had shown her my hobby, and she was showing me hers.