Her Vespa rumbled between her legs as she moved through traffic. It felt like the only thing that got between her legs, most of the time. But she was on her way to a meet-and-greet for singles, and she had hopes. She wanted to meet someone who liked card games, and military history alongside genealogy and futurism. And definitely a better driver than this jerkwad to her left. Someone who wanted to text often, and snuggle in the light of the bad movie they’d selected for that night. She knew it was unlikely to find someone on her first try, but she could afford to wait, and look, and hope. Always hope. And swerve, because this asshole just pulled into her lane without seeing her, and she bumped into the curb and was thrown from her bike. The helmet saved her head, but the telephone pole crushed her chest.

Oblivious, the driver drove on. He only half-saw the traffic. He was looking forward, toward the meet-and-greet. He knew he should expect to find someone who wanted to talk about ancestors and technology, ancient battles and card games, but he would hold onto hope. Always hope.