Plagiarism Week – Day Four, which doesn't actually include plagiarism but does feature an in-no-way crowbarred in reference to Angela Fernihough’s awesome blog.
It was, she conceded, an odd hobby to have.
Each Saturday morning, Amy would make herself a pot of coffee and pour over the lonely hearts columns. She was looking for love – other people’s.
She searched the pages to find people whom she felt would make good couples. GSOH, naturally. Anyone looking for someone kind. Complementary interests – although everyone seemed to enjoy long walks, so much so that she had wondered whether it was code for something delightfully scandalous that she wasn’t yet aware of.
As she looked up and down the column, she painted pictures of people from the sketches of their adverts. Nice people. People looking to nurse others’ bruised hearts and, in so doing, nurse their own. People whose entries hinted at views of the world that would mesh like the warm fingers of a couple’s hands. If only they would reach out to each other.
So she would do it for them. When she'd carefully found a couple, she would leave a message on the man’s voicemail and get a male friend to do the same for the woman’s. Nothing deceptive; just that their profile looking interesting and maybe they should have speak. She never met them, never knew what happened after she’d intervened. Only connect.
Here we go: Friendly Edinburgh lady, 50s, seeking a lovely M for her life.
There was something sad in seeing strangers advertising their hearts, the infinite richness of their most intimate hopes printed in black and white in public.
She looked for a suitable man for her friendly Edinburgh lady. So many people, lying next to each other with so much in common, all searching for the same thing, but not making contact. Well, she’d make contact.
This looked like a nice gentleman: Looking for someone special. M, 50 WLTM F to share the goods things in life with.
Being a servant of love is much easier than being its victim. She never wanted to have to abbreviate her heart.
Amy picked up the phone.
It was, she conceded, an odd hobby to have.
Each Saturday morning, Amy would make herself a pot of coffee and pour over the lonely hearts columns. She was looking for love – other people’s.
She searched the pages to find people whom she felt would make good couples. GSOH, naturally. Anyone looking for someone kind. Complementary interests – although everyone seemed to enjoy long walks, so much so that she had wondered whether it was code for something delightfully scandalous that she wasn’t yet aware of.
As she looked up and down the column, she painted pictures of people from the sketches of their adverts. Nice people. People looking to nurse others’ bruised hearts and, in so doing, nurse their own. People whose entries hinted at views of the world that would mesh like the warm fingers of a couple’s hands. If only they would reach out to each other.
So she would do it for them. When she'd carefully found a couple, she would leave a message on the man’s voicemail and get a male friend to do the same for the woman’s. Nothing deceptive; just that their profile looking interesting and maybe they should have speak. She never met them, never knew what happened after she’d intervened. Only connect.
Here we go: Friendly Edinburgh lady, 50s, seeking a lovely M for her life.
There was something sad in seeing strangers advertising their hearts, the infinite richness of their most intimate hopes printed in black and white in public.
She looked for a suitable man for her friendly Edinburgh lady. So many people, lying next to each other with so much in common, all searching for the same thing, but not making contact. Well, she’d make contact.
This looked like a nice gentleman: Looking for someone special. M, 50 WLTM F to share the goods things in life with.
Being a servant of love is much easier than being its victim. She never wanted to have to abbreviate her heart.
Amy picked up the phone.
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