Me:Hi, Ant.
Anthony:Good evening, Bea. How was your day?
Me:Fine. Weird. Can you tell me if it’s possible to stop an elevator with a phone?
Iwasprettysurethat’s what had happened, but my brain was gaslighting me, and Tore hadn’t given me a straight answer. I wasn’t exactly a tech wizard, so I had no idea if that kind of thing could actually be done, especially in the few seconds it had taken Tore to tap on his screen.
If anyone could pull it off, though, it was definitely him.
Once I had an answer, I’d decide whether I was creeped out or flattered.
Anthony:What an unusual inquiry. Is this a hypothetical question or for research purposes?
Me:You’re dodging, Ant. Give me your best guess.
Anthony:You can do alotwith a phone, like order tacos at two a.m., doom-scroll yourself into existential despair, cry over a video of a thirty-year-old mare mourning her alpaca best friend—
Me:Okay, wow.That’s really specific. Iwaswatching that video while crying over tacos two nights ago.
Dana, the ancient mare, had trotted up to Alice the alpaca, only to find her not moving. I’d been a wreck. Thank god Anthony and his programmers couldn’t actuallyseeme, because that hadn’t been a pretty sight. Even Benjamin had abandoned me.
Anthony:Anyone with half a heart would be touched.
Me:Sure. But what about the elevator question? Focus.
Anthony:Stopping elevators with a phone? Well…if someonewereto do that, they would likely have a very niche set of skills, a lot of nerve, and a close relationship with the building’s Wi-Fi.
Me:So, basically, yes.
Anthony:Theoretically, it’s possible. Why do you ask? Should I be concerned?
Me:I haven’t decided yet. I’ll keep you updated.
Anthony:Thank you, Bea. And try not to watch sad videos anymore. It’s better when you don’t cry.
Me:Sweet of you to care.
Anthony:My algorithm prefers you be happy. I’m here to make sure you stay that way.
I sank my feet into hot bubbling water and sighed. “Yes. This is what I needed.”
To my right, Clara snorted. “Has it been a rough two weeks?”
I flicked my gaze over her. “Excuse me. Who are you? I don’t recognize you.”
Clara, Shira, and I had a bi-weekly standing appointment for pedicures we always made it to, come hell or high water, but lately, this was the only time we all saw each other, and I hated it.
Clara’s reply was loaded with warmth, affection, and an annoying amount of truth. “You’re incredibly dramatic.”
“As you well know.”
On my other side, Shira, the sweetest woman on the planet, came to Clara’s defense. “It’s only been two weeks, Bea. Clara’s running a company, being a mother, and planning a wedding. You could cut her a tiny bit of slack.”
“Yeah,” Clara echoed. “Cut me a tiny bit of slack.”
I mimed snipping at her with scissors. “I just miss you. And Nelle-belle. Are yousureabout marrying Jake? You could move in with me and Benjamin. Better yet, we’ll kick Ben out, and you can take over the house next to mine. We’ll finally activate our best friend compound.”
A year ago, when Shira was pregnant, she’d moved into the house attached to mine. Perfect. Then Roman Wells bought the place on her other side. Since he also happened to be the baby’s father, she eventually moved in with him. Obviously, I was happy for their little family, but that meant Roman’s twin, Ben, had become my new neighbor while Clara lived on the other side of the city in cohabitated bliss with her future husband, Jake. My dream of all my favorite people living on the same block had been thoroughly derailed, and I was not okay.
