“I really like you,” I told her when we were sitting in the park, my breath sticking to the sides of my chest like treacle, the moonlight scampering at our heels.
“I know,” she said calmly. “You viewed my Facebook profile 26 times in the last three hours before I left home. Then you started typing me a message at least four times but you deleted within 120 characters – tweet habits die hard, right? And you went through all my wall posts since last year with an average hover time of 5 seconds, and my photo albums, and my friends’ photo albums…the guy in my profile pic is a family friend, by the way. We’ve known each other since we were sword-fencing in diapers but you wouldn’t know that no matter how many times you refreshed…”
“You hacked my account?” I asked.
“I just scraped the activity logs and bounce rates with a few API calls and fed them through MATLAB,” she murmured. “All public, no hacking. Anyway, you are single, right? The data modelling doesn’t usually lie.”
When she snuggled up to me I could smell her hair, thick with the promise of rosebuds and hot solder.