He had attached a graphic: a photograph of a famous politician’s face, next to a head shot of a dog that looked exactly like him.
I snorted—the resemblance was uncanny. Underneath he’d written Wednesday morning LOLs, whatever that meant.
Impulsively I typed straight back: Good morning, Raymond. The canine/ministerial graphic was most amusing.
Would you happen to be free for lunch at 12:30 by any chance? Regards, Eleanor
There was no reply for almost fifteen minutes, and I began to regret my impulsive decision. I hadn’t ever invited anyone to join me for lunch before.
I conducted my usual online checks for any updates from the musician—there was nothing new on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, sadly.
It made me feel anxious when he went quiet. I suspected it meant he was either very sad, or, perhaps more worryingly, that he was very happy.
A new girlfriend? I felt queasy, and was thinking that perhaps I wouldn’t go for the full Meal Deal today,
just an antioxidant smoothie and a small bag of wasabi peanuts, when another message arrived.
Soz—had to deal with a helpdesk call. Told him to switch it off and switch it back on again LOL.
Yeh, lunch would be good. See you out front in 5? R. I hit reply. That would be fine. Thank you.
Daringly, I didn’t put my name, because I realized he’d know it was from me.
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