By Alissa Nutting

             It has been a long day of intergalactic delivery, and I’m feeling a little boxed-in. Though I like the homey atmosphere of my ship’s small confines, after the first week on a mission the air starts to smell like recycled sock.

            When my Message Station Board lights up pink, I know it’s Brady WordCalling. I’ve never met him, but he says he’s forty-three, and early on in our talks he sent a very promising five-second video conference of himself flexing his back muscles. Like me, Brady is an independent outer-space cargo transporter.

            Yet there’s something even deeper that I’ve sensed between us. The very first time he messaged me on SingleMingle (initially, it was a bit of a debate whether or not to look past his screen name of FluidTransfer69 and try to get to know the man within), I felt that Brady had to be a Sagittarius. That’s how well we clicked. And lo and behold, when I told him my suspicion, he admitted that while his birth month technically made him a Scorpio (my astrological enemy), he was born premature. His true sign is indeed the keeper of my star-charted soul.

Tonight we wax intellectual for a bit before getting flirty.

                        FluidTransfer69:             Do u think that when we die, we will be together

                                                            forever, in a type of paradise? How old do u think ur

                                                            dead eternal body will look? Probably younger than u

                                                            actually are, right? A hot thirty? Supple 27?           

As always, I open myself to him completely.

            CargoBabe:                          Brady, I’ve thought about this a lot.

            CargoBabe:                         I think, and honestly believe this, Brady, that in the

                                                       afterlife, everyone is so extremely beautiful, perhaps

                                                       even more beautiful than it is possible to be on earth.

            FluidTransfer69:             If u were here right now, what would u suck first?

Clearly turned on by the parallel between our love and eternity, we talk until our conversation culminates physically, at which point Brady writes,

           FluidTransfer69: Got 2 kleen keys, bye!

We’ve been chatting back and forth for several weeks now, although it seems like years because the cultivation of Our Love has been so rapid. He tells me that his face is badly scarred from a fuselage accident, and that because of this he fears my disappointment and is reluctant to meet me in person. I constantly assure him his appearance doesn’t matter, but he hasn’t yet been able to summon up the courage. Brady’s back and buttocks, however, are a source of self-pride. He promises additional photo stills are on their way to my inbox.