This book brings together a variety of short stories from different genres. Each story is concise, yet powerfully crafted to delve into the complexities of human feelings.
Spanning across different eras, from ancient times to the modern day, these...
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Sarah Matthews was absolutely certain about three things: statistics never lied, love was mathematically predictable, and she was going to die alone in her apartment surrounded by spreadsheets.
At least, that's what she dramatically declared to her best friend Rachel over their weekly Sunday brunch at Maple & Main, their favorite café in downtown Boston. The late September sun filtered through the café's large windows, casting a warm glow over their table as Sarah stabbed at her eggs benedict with unnecessary force.
"You know what your problem is?" Rachel asked, stirring her oat milk latte with practiced precision. "You're trying to quantify something that can't be measured."
"Everything can be measured." Sarah insisted, pushing her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose. "And according to my calculations, the probability of finding love in Boston while working sixty hours a week as a data analyst, maintaining a reasonable fitness routine, and attempting to keep my succulents alive, is approximately 0.034%."
"Did you just make that number up?"
"...Maybe."
Rachel rolled her eyes, her dark curls bouncing as she shook her head. "You need to get out more. Stop analyzing and start living."
"I get out plenty." Sarah protested, though they both knew her idea of 'getting out' meant walking to the corner store for more coffee pods while listening to true crime podcasts.
"When was the last time you went on a date?"
Sarah opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. "That's not relevant to the current discussion."
"Six months ago. With that guy who talked about cryptocurrency for two hours straight."
"Eight months." Sarah corrected automatically. "And Trevor wasn't that bad."
"He tried to convince you to invest your savings in something called DogeCoin."
Before Sarah could defend her admittedly terrible dating history, fate decided to intervene in the form of a tall cup of coffee. More specifically, a tall cup of coffee that was currently being spilled all over her favorite cream-colored sweater.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!"
Sarah looked up from her now-ruined sweater into the most apologetic pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen.
