The Crypt Keeper

As he hit ENTER, he closed his eyes. “Hi! How’s it going?” read the Slack message, the first in what Terrance hoped would be a long and beautiful conversation history. Some day they would read these messages back, but for now there was just eye contact at the cold brew keg.

He was convinced she’d been sending him signs. Eye contact held a little too long. Too many excuses to walk by his desk and coyly brush his chair. Terrance was done waiting. He eagerly awaited her Slack reply.

His fingers rapped his desk with vigor. Sure. The age difference was concerning to some. Though not to a man who found himself, more often than expected of a recent college graduate, perusing GILF categories of adult websites. Back to slack. "Gloria is typing" popped up in grey.

Gloria winked in Terrance’s direction. He blushed in his green scrubs. Across the crowded retirement home cafeteria, it was clear their love was taking shape. Gloria pushed her pill bottles aside and grabbed her walker. Joy at last.