“That’s most of the planet,” Cal said.
“Exactly. Widen the pool. See who floats.”
I tapped a few filters, then hit search.
And just like that, the faces appeared. One after another. Rows of hopeful smiles and awkward headshots and bios full of “I love being the oldest of seven!” and “My friends say I give the best hugs!”
“Oh, God,” I whispered. “We’re choosing genetic material from people who unironically list ‘cat aunt’ as a personality trait.”
Cal leaned in. “This one says she’s fluent in three languages and played the oboe in a youth orchestra.”
I clicked on the profile. “Her favorite movie isFast & Furious 8and her biggest dream is to meet the Property Brothers. Delete.”
“Matt.”
“I’m just saying—if she has strong emotional opinions about shiplap and identical brothers who both look like they should be called Chad, she should not be part of our genetic legacy.”
We scrolled. And scrolled.
“This one likes to ‘laugh with her eyes,’” I said. “I don’t even know what that means. Does she have a genetic eyeball condition? What if she passes it down?”
“Next,” Cal said.
“This one says she used to do competitive clog dancing,” I said.
“She also won a statewide science fair. That’s kind of amazing.”
I clicked on her voice clip. A warm, confident voice filled the speakers. “Hi! I’m so excited to help families grow. I believe laughter is the key to everything, and also I make my own kombucha!”
I froze. “Nope. Kombucha is a red flag. It’s a gateway to crystals and microgreens.”
“I thought you loved crystals. Didn’t you find one in a parking lot?”
“Now that I’ve realized it was gravel, I never wanna talk about it again.”
He pulled the laptop closer to him and took over. “Okay, what about this one—says she’s a trauma nurse, has perfect vision, and her hobbies include hiking and volunteering at an animal shelter.”
I clicked her audio. “Hi, I’m Jenna. I believe in compassion, resilience, and long walks with purpose.”
“That’s a dating profile,” I muttered. “And what does ‘walks with purpose’ even mean? Is she stomping through the woods looking for vengeance?”
Cal gave me a sideways look. “I think you need a snack.”
“I need amiracle.”
We kept scrolling.
One donor listed “Disneyland” as her religion.
Another had a photo with a hedgehog in a tiny backpack as her profile pic.
One simply wrote, “I was valedictorian. My parents are also cousins.”
I dropped my forehead to the countertop. “We’re never going to find someone.”
Cal rubbed my back. “It’s only been twenty minutes.”
“It feels like years. I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve learned too much about strangers and not enough about who I am as a person.”
