Read it in Underscore Magazine
The waitress asked if I was a journalist, and I said I was a part-time science-fiction writer, sort of true, to which she added an awestruck wow. I jumped on my intuition and proposed we go to the movies sometime. I turned to a blank page in my notebook where, before you can say ‘chicken burrito,’ she was writing her name Gabriela, and what I assumed was her personal number....