No. 370

She was perfect, in the videos.

Every night before Nick went to sleep, he would stop at his computer and watch. He was in love with her.

He didn’t know who she was, exactly, just that she would occasionally post brief updates about her life on her blog. Every time she added a song, or said “goodnight”, he wished it was about him.

Even though there was a link on the page that said “Contact”, he was too scared to click it. What if she didn’t feel the same way?

Once, she didn’t update for three weeks. Nick feared that she was gone forever. It turned out that she’d been on vacation. He was relieved when she returned.

The break spurred him to make a move.

 

He set up his camera and stared into it. He was about to speak when he realized that it wasn’t recording yet. Fumbling with the buttons, he turned it on.

“Hi, my name is Nick,” he said nervously. “If you’re watching—I don’t think you are, but— if you are— I want to say hello, I guess.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

 

Of course, she never saw his introduction. If she had, she would have thought nothing of it. She wouldn’t have known it was for her.

 

Nick understood, later on, the impossibilities.