While I was hate-waiting for the Table Thief to leave, all the new clients must have been snatched up. This happens a lot; Clifford has so many independent contractors working for him that the ratio of ghostwriters to clients is lopsided. He says we’re expanding every day, and I believe him (I think), but it’s tough to earn regular paychecks this way. There are bonuses—so he claims—for getting clients across the finish line, but that hasn’t happened for me yet. I sigh and click over to the Drop-Down Database. One of Clifford’s ideas is a DIY package, wherein clients pay the company to access a list of timely, provocative subject lines and messages—categories include Flirty, Sassy, Sexy, Casual—and create their own buffet of communications to use on unsuspecting would-be matches. Every time I add to it, I get five dollars per line and the sinking suspicion I’m hastening my own demise by making my job obsolete.

I’ve sent out at least thirty résumés since I arrived in the worm-infested Big Apple, but for now, Sweet Nothings provides my sole income. I’ve got to make this work, even if it means logging in to the portal fifty thousand times a day.

Ping.

A new message pops up on my phone.

Why’d you ghost me?!!!

Oh no—did I mess up? Leave a job hanging when it was my turn to chime in? That’s a serious taboo in this business. We respond right away unless we’re under orders for strategic delays. My client Tess never signed up for that, so I gotta fix this immediately.

Oh gosh, I type, I’m so sorry, things have been crazy busy but I really—

Then I see who sent the message. Nick, not a client. Nick, the guy I was sort of seeing in LA. (Emphasis on “sort of.” He was Mary’s weed delivery guy, so our hours were . . . irregular.)

I didn’t ghost you, I correct him. I told you I was moving.

You didn’t respond to any of my messages! THAT’S GHOSTING.

No, that’s saying goodbye. Ghosting is a mystery that’s never solved.

Have a nice life, I GUESS. Your boss owes me 2k in back weed.

I’m sure that’s true, but what am I supposed to do about it?

You’ll have to take that up with Mary.

Block, move on.